


Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Student's Secret Chamber

by gryffsspliff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Porn With Plot, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Shameless Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffsspliff/pseuds/gryffsspliff
Summary: Year 8 at Hogwarts brings redemption for Draco Malfoy and love in Harry Potter, but it won't be easy. Draco gets detention, Harry makes a promise that is harder to fulfill than he expected, and Lucius may not be as reformed as he says he is. Plus they still need to pass their N.E.W.T exams.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/George Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 30
Kudos: 258





	1. A Solitary Ride

Draco sat alone in the compartment car on the Hogwarts Express. He was returning to school so he could complete classes he needed for N.E.W.T exams, required results for any ministry job. Most of the students in Slytherin house were not returning. Pansy Parkinson’s and Theodore Nott’s parents chose to home school their children. Blaize Zabini transferred to Durmstrang, something Draco’s father had threatened on several occasions. He was not sure where Millicent Bulstrode was. Had she died in the war? A lot of people had. And it was no surprise Crabbe and Goyle had not returned. After two years, they had still not managed to produce a single O.W.L. The year might be a little more lonely, but Draco found himself looking forward to return to Hogwarts, his home away from home.

His summer had not been a vacation. He, his father and his mother had stood trial for their part in the Dark Lord’s war. The Dark Lord had fallen for the final time while attempting to lay siege of Hogwarts, and the Death Eaters left behind were the ones who answered for the crimes. The Malfoys were the only supporters of the Dark Lord who had gone willingly. It had been terrifying to walk out in restraints, not knowing his fate. His own trial had been surprisingly easy though Draco still felt nauseous thinking about it. In the end his father had pleaded guilty in return for a lighter sentence for Draco and his mother, which equated to no time in Azkaban. Even without the dementors as guards, the Wizarding Prison was the worst place in the world, and Draco was glad to avoid it. His mother had promised to keep in touch with the progress on his father’s ongoing trial. The ministry would most likely accept his release in exchange for turning evidence over on their fellow Death Eaters.

The train rolled into Hogsmeade. Draco disembarked with the other students. Ahead he saw a familiar mop of black hair before the bespeckled man pulled himself into a carriage and disappeared. Potter. The boy who lived. The chosen one after all. The main witness in his case. It was excruciating to see him, but it would not keep him away from Hogwarts. It was a big school, and he knew of a few hidden corridors and secret passages he could use if he needed to avoid Potter. Even so, the pressure just beneath the surface threatened to boil over. Draco pulled himself into a carriage so hard, he nearly launched himself out the other side.

Classes began and his homework piled high. The workload did nothing to help Draco ignore jeers from students who were all too ready to remind Draco of his Death Eater status. At one point in time he might have deserved it, but he was no longer a Death Eater and wanted the whole thing behind him. It made him angry, furious even, to have people throw it in his face. He lashed out at younger students who were too slow and cursed Peeves whenever he got the chance. He had put a pretty good full-body bind on a Hufflepuff who was pointing at him and whispering behind her hand, and the bat bogey hex he put on a fifth year who asked if a smudge of ink on his chin was a new dark mark had landed the boy in the hospital wing for a week. 

The teachers were no better. McGonagall made no bones about keeping an eye on him. As she had pointed out in his first week, as headmistress it was her job to keep watch over all of her students, and if she was more concerned about him, it was only because he had been so close to the Dark Lord. Draco was affronted, as if he might turn to the dark arts. His interests lay in archaic magic. The likes of Nicholas Flammel were the wizards Draco admired. As it were, he often caught Sprout peering at him out of the corner of her eye during Herbology, and Flitwick fell over during class more than usual in his presence. As for his head of house, Slughorn had not extended an invitation for one of his parties to him, despite being a top student. Draco suspected they were only held for war heroes. Then when his anger built and the pressure threatened to overwhelm him, Draco threw himself into his classes all the more.

It was nearing Halloween before Draco began to regain his confidence. He was in the library working on a particularly nasty assignment from the new transfiguration professor, a wisp of a witch by the name of Fatima Furiosa. He was hitting his stride on explaining the complexities of gaseous transfiguration when Potter entered the library and sat with his league of followers at a nearby table. As he watched them share notes and go over the texts, he felt the resentment build. But when he imagined putting Potter under the Cruciatus Curse, the tortured writhing body in his mind’s eye transformed into his father.

Lucius had gotten off Scot free. Draco had gotten the news from his mother in the morning post. He now realized, instead of feeling relieved, he felt cheated. He loved his father, but his mother had suffered, he had suffered, for his father’s choices. True, the Malfoy’s were a proud family of Slytherines and their blood was pure, but they were not a family of torturers and murderers, not until his father perceived a threat to their way of life and put his faith in the wrong man. As Draco numbered his father’s transgressions, he recalled his meeting with Dumbledore at the highest tower, and he began to face his own mistakes. Letting Greyback into the school, spitting slurs towards muggle-born witches and wizards, and for what? His father who was so misguided? Well, not anymore. Dumbledore had said it was never too late to be a good person, and now he would work towards those ends. Draco would make amends. The first thing he would do was write his mother back.

His mother’s reply came with a Halloween package. Along with the assortment of homemade treats and tricks from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, it had come with a brown paper package. Draco put it in his bag without opening it. He had a full day ahead, but he would have to find the time to do what he had set out for himself. He might lose his nerve if he put it off. Even then, it was evening before he found his chance.

Potter, Weasley and Granger were in the Great Hall for a late dinner and were finishing when Draco approached. He hoped Potter would notice him, but it was Weasley who saw him first.

“What do you want?” Weasley asked.

Draco took a deep calming breath. “May I sit?”

The politeness in Malfoy’s voice had stunned them into nodding their assent. Draco sat before they could come to their senses and tell him to bugger off.

“I’ve come to apologize,” Draco said. He spoke to all three but looked at Granger. “I’ve held some atrocious views, and they were, at their heart, bigotry and hate. I went out of my way to make sure you felt you were not worth as much as a pureblood witch, and I used unacceptable language. I’m sorry. As a way to begin to set things right, I’d like to join S.P.E.W.” Weasley sputtered on his pumpkin juice and Potter sat a little straighter. As for Granger, she was watching Draco with discerning eyes. Her lips remained pressed together, but Draco thought it was better that he say everything in one go. “And I brought you some Honeydukes candy. I think you like cauldron cakes and sugar quills?” He handed a bulging bag over to Hermione which she took, now with a furrow in her brow. “And,” Draco went on, “I sent home for this.” He handed over the brown paper package. Granger began to open it with trepidation. “It’s an original notebook of Newt Scarmander’s with all of his notations and sketches. It predates his work for Fantastic Beasts, but some people think that makes it worth more.”

Granger gasped, and Draco waited. She studied him for a moment before speaking. “You can never quit S.P.E.W or whatever form it takes. Ever. You’ll be dead before it’s over.”

“I can handle that,” said Draco.

“And a book like this,” Granger held the soft leather bound book of scattered pages with firm reverence, “is my Christmas present every year.”

“Deal,” said Draco trying not to smile at this victory and already thinking of the book he would send for in less than two months time. He turned to Weasley. “I’ve always treated you poorly for your family. Maybe it was borne of jealousy. Certainly it was an attempt to be more like my father, but I’ve realized it was wrong, no matter the reason. I’m sorry.”

“Great,” said Ron. “Where’s my candy and personalized present.”

Draco could not help his annoyance. “I was an arsehole to you, yeah, but I was prejudiced towards her. There’s a difference, but I can find some way to make you feel special, if you like.” Draco’s hand twitched for his wand, then thought better of it and left Ron to sputter. He turned to Potter.

Suddenly Draco felt at a loss for words. He had spent the past two weeks preparing for this moment, but he came up empty when the time was ripe. There was too much between them, too much to say and more to make amends for. But it was Potter who broke the silence.

“It’s a start. Come on, you can finish apologizing later. Stay and eat something. You look like you could use it.” 

Was it Draco’s imagination or was a smile playing on Potter’s lips? Draco ignored the warm feeling in his chest. He was suddenly ravenous. The roast beef and roasted potatoes were better than anything he had ever had at Malfoy Manor. While he ate, he listened to the golden trio return to their conversation about Hagrid’s latest dangerous pet and could not help but ask about the dragon he had watched hatch from a window in their first year. The conversation flowed from there, much more easily now they were not at odds. Granger dragged Draco into a conversation about S.P.E.W, and neither Potter nor Weasley offered to rescue him. They seemed to think it was amusing. The Great Hall emptied around them. Soon Granger left saying she had a letter to write to George. Weasley left a while after with a huge yawn.

A stiff silence fell over Draco and Potter. Draco desperately wanted to break it but was not sure how. He had worked up the nerve to begin his apologies anew, but Potter began speaking at the same time.

“Go on. What were you saying?” Draco asked.

“I asked,” said Potter, “why the change of heart? It’s good to see.”

Draco shrugged. “I guess I outgrew my father and his beliefs. I had to be a Death Eater first, which ended up being far more than I had bargained for. They were dangerous, to say the least. Why are you so accepting?”

It was Potter’s turn to shrug. “You’re a lot like Snape in those ways. If he can redeem himself, so can you. It’d be my fault if I didn’t give you the same chance he was given.”

Draco appreciated Potter’s candor but he did not say so. Instead he said, “I got a new wand. Since you took my last one.” There was no heat in his words but he raised a brow at Potter. “May be even better than my old one. Might perform some good magic for me.”

Potter chuckled but it was brief. “I imagine this past year or so hasn’t been the greatest for you. Having Voldemort in your home couldn’t have been easy.”

Somehow getting empathy from Potter, the man Voldemort had sought to murder not once but seven times, allowed Draco to open up in a way he had not before. Not only was he sharing specific stories of terror under the Dark Lord but also how he was feeling in those moments. What was more, Potter reciprocated. It must have surprised Potter as much as it had him, but it did not stop them from speaking deeper truths than they had to anyone else. The discovered their opposing perspectives had more commonalities than either realized. Their conversation moved from horror stories about the Dark Lord onto shared experiences years past (“Madame Malkin’s was the first place I saw you, but I didn’t know who you were until the day on the train.” “We’ve had a number of duels. I’d like to win one once.” “Walking into the Great Hall after everybody else with a bloody nose was the best thing ever to happen for my image.”) On and on until something outside caught Potter’s eye. It was dawn. They had talked all night without realizing it. A little embarrassed at how overcome they were, the two stood and parted in the entrance hall, Potter for the Gryffindor tower and Draco for the dungeons holding the Slytherin’s common room.

Draco felt incredibly light hearted as he crawled into bed. He had far too much energy to fall asleep. He reached for his cock thinking the release would guide him off to sleep. Draco masturbated furiously, fighting for release. Just before he came green almond shaped eyes flitted before his vision.


	2. A Confrontation of Friends

Harry had not been asleep long before Ron was waking him for breakfast. He had slept deeply after a quick yank and wanted to return to the dream he had been having. The images were leaving him now, but the mixed feelings of contentment and excitement were something Harry had never experienced before, and he wanted to hold onto it. Harry dressed slowly, becoming more and more aware of his surroundings as sleep departed and a new day began.

He and Ron waited for Hermione in the common room, and together they went to the Great Hall. As they made their way to the Gryffindor table, Harry shot a glance towards where the Slytherins sat and felt his stomach drop in disappointment. Malfoy was not there. Harry pushed the feeling aside as he piled eggs and bacon onto his plate. He did spot Neville and Ginny sitting close. They had been through a lot to defend Hogwarts against teacher Death Eaters while he had been hunting Horcruxes, and it had turned into something more. Harry did not envy them, though he was melancholic for a beautiful chapter of his life to end. He still loved Ginny, but it would never be more than a sisterly affection now.

Harry had a busy day with no signs of Malfoy until their double potions lesson in the afternoon. The fair haired man entered with a minute to spare. He rushed to his chair without a glance towards Harry. The rejection lurched in Harry’s stomach, and he tried not to feel hurt.

“Guess he’s not so reformed after all,” said Ron in an offhand manner.

Hermione watched Malfoy with a hard glare. “I’m going to make sure he isn’t backing out of S.P.E.W.” She stomped over to Malfoy, her bush of hair bouncing around her face.

Harry tried not to watch their interaction too intently, but his curiosity got the better of him. He had to admit to himself even though Malfoy had committed to being a better person last night, the results would not just show themselves the next morning. But Hermione came back rather pleased, a piece of parchment clutched in her hand.

“What did he give you?” Harry heard himself ask a touch eagerly.

“Oh, Draco has drafted a letter of intent to certain members of the ministry about elf rights,” said Hermione. “I’m going to look it over.”

Harry watched Hermione pull out a quill. She made far less corrections than she ever did when looking over papers he and Ron wrote, but Harry was concerned with something else. When had Malfoy had the time to draft a letter? They had been together all night. All night. Talking to Malfoy. It was still odd to think about.

Further contemplation would have to wait as Professor Slughorn began the days lesson. “Today we will be making a complex bit of potion requiring precision work that is costly to our time restraints. To compensate, we will be testing these skills in a group setting. If you would separate into groups of five. Divide your work accordingly and best of luck,” he added with a flourish.

Earnie MacMillan, a Hufflepuff who worked at Harry, Ron and Hermione’s table joined their team. Hermione already had her book opened to the appropriate page and was telling Ron to begin heating the cauldron water. Harry looked around for a fifth partner and immediately noticed Malfoy was adrift in the room. He caught Malfoy’s eyes and saw something like nervousness. He gestured for Malfoy to join them. It had been odd to see Malfoy without his usual circle of Slytherins and knew what it was like to miss a friend. Those times without Ron by his side were some of the worst moments. He heard his best friend groan as Malfoy joined them but ignored it.

Hermione, glad to see a set group, gave everyone instructions and took on the largest share herself. Harry wondered how long it would be before she took over the entire process as he set out slicing flobberworms.

It had not been ten minutes before Hermione scolded him. “You need to cut them all the same size. The last ones you cut were completely translucent they were so thin and these are too chunky. I’ll have to redo them all.”

As she took over, Harry and Malfoy shared a look, Malfoy as if to be saying, “Is this always how it is?” and Harry’s look replied, “You expected something different?” They both laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Ron who had already lost his job as cauldron stirrer and was making bubbles with his wand.

Harry jumped at the intrusion on this shared moment with Malfoy. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Hermione’s taken over.”

Ron nodded. He did not need to hear more.

An hour later, only Malfoy was still working on the potion with Hermione, who seemed reasonably pleased with the result. Earnie was taking notes as if he were still involved in the process, but Harry and Ron packed their things. After Hermione turned in their potion, she rushed off to Arithmancy. Harry lingered to wait for Malfoy.

“Ron and I have a free period. We’re going to try and get a jump on homework before dinner, if you’d like to join.”

Harry was sure Malfoy was going to reject the offer, so he could not help but smile when Malfoy said, “Yeah, alright, Potter.”

“Well come on then,” he said.

Malfoy jerked as if pulled from an all consuming thought. He had been staring off somewhere in the vicinity of Harry’s mouth. He stood quickly, toppling his chair in the process. He did not notice though as he was out the door a few steps ahead of Harry. They found Ron waiting in the hall talking to a Ravenclaw girl, but he waved them on and returned to his conversation.

“I didn’t know Weasley talked to girls,” said Malfoy.

“He figured it out,” Harry said. “George gave him some tips.”

Harry and Malfoy walked on in companionable silence, but when Harry turned toward the library, Malfoy grabbed his arm. “Let’s use an empty classroom. Just this once, I'd like to study without Madame Pence breathing down my neck..”

Harry had to agree. He had spent a lot of time in the library, usually because of Hermione, but he had never liked the school librarian. He obliged Malfoy and followed after him into a room off the first floor corridor. They busied themselves with setting out what they would be working on. It was as if there was a Gemino Curse on his homework because every time he went to do some, there was always more. Since conquering Lord Voldemort, he did not have anything to distract him from his studies, and the extra time did nothing for his enthusiasm for the work. Harry and Malfoy’s quills scratched on parchment, but Harry was hardly aware of what he was writing as his mind began to wander. Unbidden, he began to recall those feelings he had during his dreams the previous night. It was almost euphoric. The only thing he had felt similarly was when he had drank Felix Felicis in his sixth year. He sat back to ponder the feeling when he noticed Malfoy was watching him. Their eyes caught and held.

“What?” Harry asked. He was beginning to feel self conscious.

Malfoy did not say a word, but stared more intently.

Their gaze held and all sorts of ideas went through Harry’s mind, each one more ridiculous than the last. Ideas like laughing more with Malfoy and sitting with him during every potions class. Ideas of walking through Hogsmeade on the upcoming trip and buying him a butterbeer. They went on, and Harry thought of what it might be like to count Malfoy among his closest friends. They had already shared so much the night before, he thought they might be on their way. He saw Christmas. Since Malfoy was getting Hermione an old book, should he put Malfoy on his own list? He thought he must. Then he returned to the present to think what it might be like to touch Malfoy, to feel his fair skin under his fingertips. What if he leaned in just a little, they were so close already, and…

The door opened.

“Thought I might find you in one of these rooms when I didn’t find you in the library,” said Ron.

“Did you strike out with the Ravenclaw girl?” asked Malfoy with too much venom in his voice.

Ron heard it too. There was a catch in his step, but it did not damper his mood. “Nah,” he said. “She had a class to go to. I think I’ll be able to get her between the sheets, well, on a desk anyway.” He surveyed the room as if to pick out the most romantic corner.

Harry did not make much headway on his essay, but the rumbling in his stomach said it was time to quit. Ron and Malfoy were on the same page, so they headed towards the Great Hall for dinner. He and Ron found Hermione at the Gryffindor table, leaving Malfoy at his own table. Harry sat but did not pull any food towards himself. Had he not heard so many lessons from Dumbledore and the sorting hat about house lines and sticking together? And what were the house tables if not lines of division? So when Harry stood and joined Malfoy at the Slytherin table, he was nothing but sure of his decision. Let everyone see the famous Harry Potter cross the hall to sit with another house and let them do the same, Harry did not care.

Malfoy did. “What are you doing, Potter?”

“Sitting with you. Thought it was obvious enough,” said Harry.

“You know what I mean,” spat Malfoy. “You shouldn’t let them see you with me.”

“Why?” Harry threw back. “What will they think? We’re friends? We are friends,” said Harry, suddenly unsure.

Malfoy did not agree, but he did not ask Harry to leave either. Harry scooped hash onto his plate and tucked in. And over dinner Harry and Malfoy had a wonderful conversation about school gossip and recent news. Harry was not surprised Malfoy knew so much about what was going on here and abroad. He had always gotten the impression Malfoy made it his business to know these kinds of things. They laughed too, and Harry tried to get secrets on the Slytherin quidditch team to which Malfoy loftily replied, “I could give you the playbook and you still won’t beat us this year.” 

And on it went for the next few weeks. Malfoy became a permanent part of their group and Harry did sit with him every Potions lesson and every Herbology lesson too. They had gotten into a habit of using their wands to shoot sparks at each other under the table to make each other jump at inopportune moments like when Malfoy was answering a question or when Harry was adding a drop of dragon blood to a very sensitive potion. They were not a part of each others quidditch practice, but they did fly around the grounds together after long hours of studying. Harry outstripped Malfoy every chance he got, and Malfoy would return with a kick to unseat Harry which would make them both laugh.

The teachers and students took notice. Headmistress McGonagall went out of her way to corner Harry and question him. A quick reminder of Dumbledore’s message of unity was enough to assuage her. Professor Sprout watched them like they were a branch of Devil’s Snare, and Slughorn would whisper, “My boy, he was a Death Eater, you know.” Whispers from students followed Harry, but he did not care. It had happened so many times over the years their mutterings did not even reach him. Shortly before Christmas Malfoy began to pull away. Harry wondered why and thought it might be because of disapproval from the school. But when he brought his concerns to Ron and Hermione, they had a different suspicion about the schools gossip.

Ron said, “I’d be keeping my distance too if everyone thought I was hooking up with a bloke.”

Harry’s sputtered. “They’re saying what?”

But Hermione spoke over him. “Oh, Ron, don’t be such an idiot. There’s nothing wrong with it, even if it were true.”

“I know,” said Ron. “Except when one of the blokes is Malfoy.”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. Harry was still distressed. “I thought we were getting on better is all. They’re just stupid rumors.”

“Well,” said Hermione. “If you are getting on so well then you should be able to talk to him about it.”

After another day of being ignored and another day of lessons bereft of Malfoy, Harry resolved to take Hermione’s advice. He ate dinner quickly so he wouldn’t miss Malfoy, and when he stood to leave, Harry rushed after him. Harry caught Malfoy before he reached the door leading to all of the dungeons, grabbed his arm, and against much protest pulled him into a nearby classroom.

“Colloportus,” Harry said. The charm locked the doors and ensured Malfoy could not escape.

“Potter!” Malfoy exclaimed. “Let go of me! What are you doing?”

Harry whirled Malfoy around to face him, fury etched on both of their faces. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“Yeah,” Malfoy said. “What’s it to you.”

“What’s it to me, Malfoy!” Harry’s anger rose, as if it could go any higher. “We’ve been hanging out everyday and suddenly it stops.”

“Come off it, Potter. You can handle it. It’s just like before we were on good terms,” said Malfoy.

“It is not just like before,” Harry said, “because now we’re friends.”

Anger twisted Malfoy’s face. “We were never friends.”

Malfoy may as well have stupefied Harry.


	3. Fist of Fury

Draco was incensed. The hero Potter could not let anything lie. He always had to get to the bottom of a mystery, and here he was, at it again. Draco wanted to curse him for it.

“Let it go, Potter,” said Draco. He put all of the anger he felt into his words, but if it would keep Potter from digging around any more then it was worth it.

No such luck. Potter hurled back, “No. I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why you think we aren’t friends.”

“I hated you!” blurted Draco. “From the moment I met you.”

“You’re wrong. Remember, you offered to be my friend when we met on the train,” Harry pointed out.

“Give it a rest, will you,” said Draco. “It was never about friendship. I heard about you my entire life, spoken about alongside the Dark Lord. I heard my father talk to Avery and Nott about you as if you might be the next great dark wizard. The possibilities were endless, but only if the boy who lived was set on the right path and made the right friends. My father never told me to extend the friendship to you, not directly. But I overheard, and I tried.”

Harry was shocked, and rightly so, but he recovered his verve. “Is this your apology? You were a dick to me because your father was a Death Eater in need of a master?”

“You’ve got it wrong, Potter,” spat Draco. “I didn’t hate you because my father is a dark wizard. I hated you because you weren’t. I hated you because you represented hope to everyone until the day we were sorted and hope broke for the purebloods. I was happy enough, but everything began to change. You were given everything, but for me, everything slipped away until I had nothing.”

“Oh I see, this is my apology to you, is it?” Harry was incredulous and dense as ever as far as Draco was concerned.

Draco wanted to shove Harry. He wanted a chance to knock some sense into him. He growled. “I hated you, and I clung to it. For years I held it close. You were the chosen one and everybody else was along for the ride.”

Potter went off. “Your master chose me, if you remember. He killed my parents.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m very familiar with the story. Why don’t you listen to mine? You wanted to know why we aren’t friends. You were the one who dragged me in here.”

Potter nodded but not without considerable effort.

“It led me to a lot of mistakes. I’m not proud, but I stayed alive. My mother survived. And when the Dark Lord fell, the true possibilities showed themselves. The world is changing, and I’m not sure I agree on all points. I think magic should be kept pure and remain in the hands of wizards.”

“You agreed to help Hermione,” Potter interrupted.

Draco nodded. “But I don’t have to live in fear anymore, so I can handle what comes. As it stands my father and I were wrong to lose hope in you. For what it’s worth, I am sorry I ever stood against you.”

“It’s all very nice of you to say,” Potter said though it didn’t sound like Potter thought it was nice in the slightest. “What I still don’t understand is why we can’t be friends.”

He was still stuck on this. Draco grabbed Potter by the collar of his robes and held him fast. Potter was quick to grab Draco’s wrists but didn’t attempt to wrench free.

“You haven’t pieced it together yet, Potter,” whispered Draco. “You haven’t considered what it means to set aside so much animosity, haven’t bothered to wonder why you’re so concerned with losing me as a friend after a few weeks of good terms. You haven’t heard the truths in the whispers following us around. Well since you are so dense, I’ll spell it out for you.”

Draco leaned in enough to feel Potter’s short breaths. He looked into Potter’s wide green eyes, and when Potter did not push him away, Draco pressed their lips together. Potter gasped and Draco felt the cool air pass his lips. It sent a tingle through his body, and suddenly the space between them was too much. Draco forced himself to pull away and though he did not feel so confident, he let a smirk play across his lips. Potter stared at Draco’s mouth, hardly moving.

“Do you get it now, Potter?”

Draco waited, but Potter said nothing. He was getting impatient, but Potter was working through some things in his head. He was prepared to intervene and make a decision for Potter when he must have come to some sort of conclusion because the next thing Draco knew, Potter was wetting his lips and rasped, “Yeah, I get it now.”

Their lips met, and Draco got his first real taste of Potter. It was heady, and Draco was instantly addicted. The longer it went on the more Draco needed Potter’s touch. His fingers went into Potter’s dark hair, and he slanted his mouth over Potter’s for a deeper kiss. When Potter moaned Draco’s cock throbbed and began to rise. Potter was reluctant to allow any space between them, but Draco needed it to pull at Potter’s robes. Once he realized where this was headed, Potter joined the efforts. Wizard robes were cumbersome for sex but it occurred to neither of them to step back and take them off. Draco clumsily found the hem of Potter’s briefs and pulled them down. As soon as Draco got his long slender fingers around Potter’s cock, he began thrusting in Draco’s hand. Potter forgot all about Draco’s robes and in another flurry of fabric, Draco was able to release his own tortured cock, and he joined it with Potter’s cock in his hand.

They moaned into each others mouths as hot flesh touched hot flesh. Potter’s hands clamped on Draco’s arse, and his hips continued to thrust. Draco kept a steady rhythm. The delicious friction threatened orgasm long before Draco was ready. He began to slow his pace, but Harry protested. “Harder, Malfoy.” The command held a power over Draco, and he was pumping them both towards climax. Harry came first. As the hot spurts fell over his hand and onto his own cock, Malfoy’s release joined Harry’s. They lazily kissed as they came down. Their breathing slowed, and with a nip to Potter’s lower lip Draco stepped back.

Potter was flushed, and his hair stuck up in the back. His glasses sat crooked on his nose which emphasized the bewildered expression Harry still wore. Dark stains covered the front of his robes. Draco could not help but chuckle. 

Potter chuckled too. “You look a mess.”

“I think you look cute,” Draco said with another kiss. Except for the stained robes, but Draco did not say anything about it. He liked the thought of Potter getting tongue-tied while having to explain the state of himself to Weasley and Granger. “You better get off to bed. Filch had to clean the charms corridor. A sixth year class was practicing Aguamenti, and it went wrong. He’s looking to dish out some punishments.”

“Yeah alright,” said Potter. He cast Alohamora to unlock the door. Before they parted he looked at Draco and said stubbornly, “We can be friends, you know.”

Draco had scoffed, but the broad grin stretching across his pale features betrayed him.


	4. Malfoy Mouths Off

They jerked each other off every night. Harry’s excuses to get away were becoming feebler, but Ron did not notice, and if Hermione did she kept her suspicions to herself for now. They met in empty classrooms and among the book stacks, on the grounds and quidditch pitch. It was always rushed and they hardly spoke words. Harry had never felt better.

Outside of their encounters it was all Harry could do to keep his hands off Malfoy. He thought it might be indecent to push a lock of hair back in place or grab his arm in conversation. It would be outright obscene to place an arm around him and pull him close. He might even kiss Malfoy on the forehead. The thought made him feel like he had eaten a puking pastel, but not for the same reason it might make Ron want to vomit. Harry restrained himself to bumping shoulders with Malfoy in the hall and shoving him when he was being a prick. They still shot sparks at each other. Harry was partial to aiming for Malfoy’s arse every chance those sweet globes were in his path.

Ron and Hermione broke through his bliss.

“Going to sit with Malfoy again,” Ron said, a sullen note in his voice. “Won’t have many more chances before the holiday break.”

“Yeah, I think I might,” said Harry.

“Guess you’re best mates now.” Ron tried to sound flippant but came across as put out.

Harry turned to Ron and noticed for the first time Ron might not like Harry spending so much time with Malfoy. He was red around the ears and his brow furrowed.

Harry smiled. “You’re my best mate, you and Hermione.”

“Right,” said Ron.

“You could sit with us, if you want to. No one says you can’t,” said Harry.

Instead of replying, Ron stalked off into the Great Hall.

Harry looked to Hermione for guidance. She looked so sorry for both of them Harry was sure she was on the nose with her suspicions about him and Malfoy. Harry rushed after Ron, sure he could mend things. Such was his hurry he ran headlong into Malfoy.

“Sorry,” Harry said, adjusting his glasses. “Didn’t see you there.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “I was where I always am when I’m waiting for you. Maybe you were having dinner with someone else? Or did it have something to do with Weasel. He looked upset when he walked by. Said something about Slytherin scum. I assume he was referring to me.”

Harry stopped and looked into Malfoy’s grey eyes. They sparkled silver when he was in a temper, like now. “Ron’s just in a foul mood. I thought you were past name calling.”

“I make exceptions for people when they behave like animals,” said Malfoy coolly. “But you’re right. I should go talk to him.”

Harry made a grab for Malfoy. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea. It’s nothing. Ron will get over it.”

“I won’t,” said Malfoy.

His long strides carried him through the hall. He sat opposite from Ron but leaned across the table into his space. His wand was in his hand, and he held it tight by his side.

“Watch it!” shouted Ron.

“Watch this, Weasley,” Malfoy pointed his wand at Ron. “I was just talking to Potter, and he says you have some kind of problem with me.”

Ron took his eyes off Malfoy’s wand long enough to shoot a scathing glare at Harry. Malfoy was not done talking. “I thought we had gotten past our differences. I won’t call you a blood traitor, and I was ready to forget you’re a tiny little prick who turns into a simpering toadstool every time he doesn’t get the attention he craves, too cowardly to own up to his own feelings and behave like an adult. Are you sure you’re a Gryffindor, aren’t they supposed to be brave, or did the sorting hat recognize you as a blood traitor. Oops, sorry, I forgot I said I wouldn’t call you names.”

Ron stood, his face completely red. He jabbed a finger at Malfoy, but before he could get any words out, Harry grabbed Malfoy by the robes and pulled him back. “Come on.” Harry dragged Malfoy backward out of the Great Hall. Malfoy had trouble staying on his feet, but Harry did not spare a glance back. He shoved Malfoy into a classroom and cast Colloportus.

Harry shouted, “What’s with you!”

At the same time Malfoy yelled, “Don’t shove me.”

Malfoy repeated himself. “Don’t shove me.” Only this time he pushed Harry’s shoulder.

“I’ll shove you if you deserve it,” said Harry. He shoved Malfoy.

“What’d I do to deserve that,” Malfoy said pushing back at Harry with more force.

Harry stepped back. This time he used both hands to shove Malfoy’s chest. He was getting upset, but he still liked the feel of Malfoy’s firm chest under his robes. Malfoy was not playing games though. He bent over and ran at Harry, catching him around the middle and driving him to the ground. Harry’s head hit the floor with a crack, but it had not registered before he was grabbing Malfoy by the hair and pulling his head back. He was considering the merits of ruining Malfoy’s beautifully straight nose when all awareness went to his thigh where he could feel the outline of Malfoy’s equally straight cock.

“Do you like this?” Harry asked.

Malfoy swallowed with effort. Harry watched his Adam’s apple move along his pale neck.

Malfoy said, “I hadn’t thought about it.” He pretended to consider. In a fluid movement he freed his head from Harry’s loosening grasp, forced him to turn over and held Harry’s arm to his back. He leaned in to put his mouth right by Harry’s ear. Harry could feel hot breath on the side of his face as Malfoy spoke. “Yeah I kinda do like this, Potter.”

Harry could not move. He growled, “Let me go.”

“I don’t think I will. I’m too upset with you for stopping me from cursing Weasley.” There was a smile in his voice turning Harry on. He tried to suppress a shiver, but Malfoy noticed. “I want to try something with you. Will you let me.”

“I don’t want your cock in me.”

Malfoy chuckled. “I had something else in mind.” He released Harry’s arm and sat up. “Get on your back, Potter.”

Harry rolled over. As soon as his mouth was in range, Malfoy bent over him and captured his lip. He sucked on it. Harry darted out his tongue, asking Malfoy to kiss him. Malfoy complied with more force than he ever had before. Harry sucked in air through his nose, reluctant to give an inch to Malfoy. It was Malfoy who pulled back against Harry’s protest.

“Pull up your robes, Potter. I want to see your cock,” Malfoy said.

The cock in question swelled to its full length. Harry had to agree so he yanked at his robes. “What do you think, Malfoy?”

“I think,” Malfoy said fingering the band of Harry’s boxer briefs, “there’s more to see.”

Harry watched Malfoy’s face as he pulled down his pants. His mouth was open and his eyes, which sparkled not so long ago, were a deep shade of grey. A soft moan escaped his lips as Harry’s cock was freed and bounced on Harry’s groin.

“Potter, I had no idea you were so sprung,” said Malfoy. “It’s better than I’ve pictured.”

“You’ve been picturing my cock, Malfoy?” asked Harry.

“Obsessively,” said Malfoy. He gripped it and watched his hand slide over the firm shaft. Malfoy squeezed the head, and Harry’s hips lifted off the ground in response. “Sit still,” Malfoy said. He repeated the motion with the same reaction. “If you don’t sit still, I’ll tie you down.”

“I can’t,” Harry said. It was true. His hips moved on their own accord.

Malfoy raised a brow. “If you can’t lie there while I’m doing this, how are you going to act when I’ve got my mouth around you.”

Every fiber of Harry froze except for the precum dribbling out of his tip. Malfoy showed his approval with a wicked grin. His eyes stayed on Harry as he lowered his lips to Harry’s cock. Harry lost all sense of what was going on. His world narrowed to the wet heat enveloping his cock. He tried to watch Malfoy’s lush lips move along his length. Malfoy took him in then slowly moved along Harry’s cock until he released the head with a wet pop. He couldn’t have been at it for very long.

“Why’d you stop? Don’t stop.” Harry panted.

Malfoy ignored him. He moved up Harry’s body to capture his lips in another kiss. Malfoy tasted so good, and he relished the feeling of his weight on top of him, but still his hips moved relentlessly.

“Relax, Potter. I want to do this for you,” Malfoy whispered against Harry’s lips. When Harry whimpered from the effort he added, “or will it be easier if I restrain you.”

Harry nodded. He would do anything if it meant getting Malfoy back on his dick. Malfoy was already conjuring ropes. They tied themselves to desk legs and wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Harry pulled against the coarse restraints. He could not move, could not raise his knees. He was helpless to let Malfoy do what he wanted.

Harry gasped for breath. “Couldn’t use silk?”

Malfoy’s grin said he could have but chose not to. “I like you like this, Potter. You’re at the mercy of my tongue.”

“Stop using it to talk then and get on with it,” Harry said with a tone of desperation. He wasn’t sure if he could stand this much longer.

Malfoy lazily rolled his tongue around Harry’s glans before swallowing him to the root. Harry cried out, sure he was heard by Hagrid’s hut. It was a bliss Harry had never known. Unable to move in any meaningful way, his back arched off the hard ground. Malfoy was relentless. He never changed his pace and he flicked his tongue against the underside of Harry’s cock on every upstroke. His lips held him so tight his cheeks hollowed. The suction on his cock was constant. It was torture. It was glorious.

“Tug on my balls.” Harry felt fingers play at his balls and gasped. “Oh, more, Malfoy,” He demanded when Malfoy had not worked his sac enough. “Oh, ah ah ah.” Harry was close. He pulled at his wrists. “Let me go. Malfoy, let my wrists go. Ah ah ah. Malfoy! Let my wrists free, pleeese.”

Without missing a beat, Malfoy twirled his wand and his tongue. Harry felt the ropes vanish from his wrists and ankles. No sooner had he gotten his hands on Malfoy’s head, he was coming down Malfoy’s throat, thrusting deep with every pulse. His fingers clenched in Malfoy’s fine blond hair. Harry collapsed, and Malfoy’s head fell onto Harry’s thigh.

“You’re so demanding,” Malfoy said without moving.

Harry chuckled, too satisfied to care. “What about you?”

“What about me? I wasn’t asking for anything,” said Malfoy.

“I mean do you want me to get you off.”

“Too late,” said Malfoy.

He showed Harry his hand, the one he had not been using to grip Harry’s balls. It was covered in white pearls. Harry grabbed the proffered wrist and licked Malfoy’s palm. It was salty and not unpleasant like Harry expected. He licked the webs of Malfoy’s hand and sucked on each finger in turn until the evidence of Malfoy’s orgasm was gone. Malfoy’s eyes were glazed over and he muttered a curse under his breath. Their mouths met in a less aggressive but no less passionate kiss. It was long moments before they stopped. Malfoy sprawled on top of Harry whose bottom half was still exposed. The cold floor sapped all warmth from his arse. It was beginning to go numb, but It did not bother Harry. He wrapped his arms around Malfoy only caring about holding him close.

“My father’s release from Azkaban was set today. He’ll be home two days after Christmas,” Malfoy said with his nose pressed against Harry’s throat.

Harry did not need further explanation to know this was what had pushed Malfoy’s anger to the edge. Harry rubbed Malfoy’s back.

“I wish you could be there,” Malfoy admitted. “I’d be able to handle it better.”

“I wish I could be there for you,” Harry said. “I’ve already committed to going to the Burrow. Maybe we can meet on one of the days,” He added “Speaking of, Ron likes chocolate frogs for the cards. I think he’s only missing Ptolemy.”

“I’ll give him mine,” said Malfoy. He propped on an elbow so he could look at Harry. “I’m tired of meeting in these cold rooms. Bring your invisibility cloak with you on Friday. I’ve got an idea.”

Harry wanted to press but knew Malfoy would be cagey. Besides, Malfoy had had some pretty good ideas. He was willing to bet he would have at least one more. Friday was the last day of classes before the holiday, so he knew it needed to be special. After another languid kiss, they righted themselves and parted ways. Harry’s only regret was that he could not hold Malfoy all night, otherwise it had been as close to perfect as Harry could imagine.


	5. Detention Dalliance

Draco felt pulled in two different directions. His mood soured when he thought about his father’s return home. He was not sure how he would handle it. For his mother’s sake, he would be civil, but what would happen when they inevitably found themselves alone? He pictured scenarios like exchanging barbs or else giving in to his father’s demands. Conversely, flashes of last night with Potter danced across his mind. Getting his lips around Potter’s long cock had been one of the best things he had ever done. He relished the slide of his hot rod along his tongue. He knew now Amortentia would emit vapors smelling of Potter’s musk. His mind could not linger here either. It would not be good to pop a boner in the middle of the corridor. In two days time he would be on his way home for the Christmas break, and those thoughts would be his sustenance. And why did it depress him so much to be apart from Potter? It would only be a few weeks. Not much could change in such a short amount of time. And on and on his thoughts circled like water down the drain to the Chamber of Secrets. He was so distracted, he ran over someone on his way into Charms class.

“Confundus,” Draco said before he registered who he had toppled over.

It was Professor Flitwick. The only thing keeping the small man from falling into the cabinet of glassware was Draco standing there. He bounced off Draco’s knees and crashed into a pile of pillows. Flitwick struggled to stand. He could get on all fours, but he only managed to scuttle back and forth. From his position on the floor he squeaked, “Dementors, Mille-Feuille.” Granger rushed forward to support Professor Flitwick, who tried to speak again. “Detainment Foil with your house elf. And teen ploots from silver fin.” Ernie Macmillan helped Hermione guide Professor Flitwick out of the classroom.

“We’re taking him to the hospital wing,” said Granger.

“Too right,” said Macmillan. “I say, you got him fantastically, Draco. I gather you have a detention with Professor Slughorn. He is your head of house. Professor Flitwick doesn’t mean for you to go to the kitchens.”

“I understood, thanks,” Draco said. He stalked after them.

He found Slughorn in his office. They had a brief conversation. Slughorn did not like to remain in his presence alone for very long. On his way out he found Potter and Weasley waiting for him.

“Cheers, mate,” said Weasley. “You’re more useful than I’ve ever given you credit for. If it were my decision, I’d give you those ploots back Flitwick took from silver fin. You didn’t happen to stupify Slughorn while you were in there. I fancy a long afternoon.”

Draco sneered. Weasley could be an annoying prat.

“What’d he give you?” Potter inquired about his nights detention.

“He’s got me cleaning cauldrons with a scrubber,” said Draco.

The remainder of the day passed woefully slow. At seven o’clock, instead of running off with Potter, he dragged his feet to the dungeon. Professor Slughorn was waiting for him. His oversized belly was wrapped in a dressing gown. He lounged behind his desk with a recent issue of The Potionmaster’s Portfolio.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Good of you to come. I’m afraid the first years are inelegant in their potion making. Tends to stick to the sides, you’ll see. I’ll take your wand so you aren’t tempted to expedite your punishment. No need to put it off. Scrub away, scrub away,” Slughorn waved him towards two teetering towers of cauldrons and returned to his publication.

It took enormous effort to scrape away the grime from convex edges. Twenty minutes passed before he was finished with the first. He set it aside knowing it was a pitiable job. He reached for the second when the dungeon door opened on screeching hinges. Slughorn stood and glanced up and down the hall before easing the door shut.

“Peeves again. He is always getting into some sort of mischief,” said Slughorn.

Draco glanced around the room when a whispered voice said, “You better get back to work, Malfoy.”

Draco jumped. “Potter!”

“Did you say something?” asked Slughorn.

“It was nothing, sir,” said Draco.

Slughorn nodded amiably. “Get back to it then.”

Draco pulled a cauldron between his legs, but an unseen force stopped it short. Potter was under the invisibility cloak. He could feel Potter’s arm under his own, but could not see the hand holding the cauldron. Potter’s disembodied voice whispered into his ear, “I had ideas for tonight, Malfoy, and you disrupted them. Now I’m working on an improvised plan.”

“You couldn’t have waited?” Draco asked through gritted teeth.

Harry chuckled low, and the vibrations went straight to Draco’s cock. “I’m not one for waiting around. It’s gotten me into some trouble in the past, and I’m looking to find a little more.”

The cauldron slid to the side, seemingly of its own volition. Draco protested, “I’m meant to be cleaning.” To the unseen Potter he inquired, “Where’d you go?”

He knew where Potter had gone when his knees were spread apart so far his foot hit the cauldron stack. The clang startled Slughorn. “Be careful, boy. You’ll wake the dead if those topple.” He chuckled.

“Sorry, professor,” said Draco giving an imitation of scrubbing the pot sitting in an awkward position at his side. To Potter he murmured, “What are you doing?”

Draco did not have to wait to find out exactly what it was Potter intended. There was a rustling of his robes, then an outline of Potter’s head and shoulders appeared. Potter was smoothing his hands over the inside of Draco’s thighs. Draco stood so Potter could drag down his pants and sat quickly. Slughorn remained oblivious to his strange movement. He could feel Potter pushing at his knees, watched through his robes as Potter lowered his head. He must have taken off the hood of the cloak because Draco felt Potter’s soft lips kiss a trail on the inside of his leg. He was so excited by this turn in his evening. He needed to know what was going to happen, desperate to find out. Potter continued with his ministrations until he reached Malfoy’s hip. Then he licked a hot trail along Draco’s cock and sucked a sac into his mouth. Draco hissed. Potter laved at his balls with the enthusiasm of an Erumpent in heat. Draco moved to the edge of his seat to give Potter better access. His legs began to tremble as Potter stroked his cock with a free hand. He continued to work Draco’s balls until they were wet with saliva. Then Potter did something unexpected. Instead of moving upward to take Draco’s cock in his mouth, he moved southward and lapped at his crease.

Draco nearly jumped out of his seat. He whimpered, “Potter, no, I can’t. I’m too sensitive there; I’ll make too much noise.”

Potter whispered, “Muffliato,” an incantation Draco was not familiar with. 

It did not matter. Potter was pushing his cheeks apart. He continued to jack Draco, his nose pressed into his sac and then… The first touch of Potter’s tongue to his hole sent jolts of pleasure up Draco’s spine. His knees rose so that he was completely open to Potter who took full advantage, licking and poking at him with the hard tip of his tongue. Draco’s head lolled back. A long horse moan escaped his lips. If Slughorn looked at him now, there would be no explaining Draco in this position. His entire body shook with the strain of holding off pleasure while balancing on the stool, but he did not dare move, not while Potter was paying him such special attention. It was as difficult to stay quiet as he had imagined. With his knees by his ears, a stream of incoherent babble issued forth. Potter was no less noisy. Between sloppy licks and deep sucks at Draco’s hole, Potter sighed his enjoyment.

Potter burrowed into his hole then he added a finger. He was slow to move past the first knuckle and the second, but once Draco relaxed with the intrusion, Potter fingered him. He hooked his finger and found a spot inside of Draco that, when pressed, unraveled him. What was happening to him now sent relentless waves of ecstasy through his body, and then like a high note above all others electricity shot up his spine. Draco cried out, “Potter!” Spots of light obscured his vision and with one last shout, his orgasm crashed over him. He was at a loss for thought, awash in a sea of pleasure. As he floated back into awareness he said, “Oh, Potter, you rotter.”

Potter laughed from behind him. Potter had moved? Apparently so, and he was supporting Draco’s weight. Draco’s head was tilted back onto Potter’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and smiled, but they popped open again when Potter started moving.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m bringing myself off,” Potter said.

“What?” Draco looked around. Potter was still under the invisibility cloak. He had imagined Potter laid out in front of him while Draco watched, taking in every movement so he knew just how Potter liked his cock stroked. Now he was here doing those things to himself, and Draco could not see a shadow. He was disappointed despite cumming moments earlier. “Talk to me while you do it.”

“You were so hot. I had no idea you would respond so well. The way you just opened up makes me so hard for you. I want to hear you make those sounds again. And the things you were saying. I had no idea you felt that way, Malfoy.”

“What did I say?” Malfoy asked only half-worrying what it might have been.

“You said my name like it was the Benedict,” said Potter. “You said my tongue was the holy grail and your arsehole was thirsty. You said if I got you off with my tongue in your hole then you would herald me as the savior of toss jobs. It was hard to make out much else, but you get the general idea. You were moaning like Myrtle.”

Draco was a little embarrassed. Potter might have been exaggerating, but Draco could not call him on it. He did not recall ever speaking. “What else, Potter. Don’t stop now.”

Potter’s voice was beginning to hitch on some words, so Draco knew how his pleasure was rising. “Ah, you came in my hair. I’ll have to stop by the Prefect’s bathroom on my way back and wash. Can’t go into Gryffindor tower smelling like you, though I’d like to keep your scent on me all night. Ah, Malfoy, you taste even better. It was salty, sure but there was something else driving me mad. I can still feel you on my tongue, ah, writhing, guiding me in deeper. It was all I could do to not bend you over and take you. Ah!”

Seconds later invisible arms wrapped him in an embrace. Now his back was holding Potter upright.

“I’m so glad I decided to come visit you in detention,” said Potter.

Draco had all but forgotten where they were. He looked around. Slughorn was buried in The Potionmaster’s Portfolio. The cauldron tower was still daunting. “You had better go,” said Draco, but as he said it, the dungeon door opened and closed again.

Slughorn started. He had dozed off. He looked at his watch and over at Draco. “If you have any inclination of finishing tonight, you’ll have to work a touch faster. I don’t fancy going through this rigmarole again tomorrow night.”

Draco dragged the cauldron he had been cleaning before Potter’s arrival in front of him. As he bent to continue scrubbing he noticed it was pristine. Potter must have scourgified it. He set it in the clean pile and grabbed the next one which was full of muck. Draco thought there might be some benefits to another nights detention if Potter came around again. He set out to cleaning, and with happy memories to pass the night, he was done in no time at all.


	6. Fluid Exchange

Harry was beginning to think he was in over his head with Malfoy. Harry’s blood thrummed to the beat of his name. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. There was nothing he wanted more than to take Malfoy away somewhere and forget about the world for a while. People did not act like this. He had jerked off again in the bath, jerked off this morning and now he wanted to jerk off again because Malfoy had entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Or have Malfoy do it, since he was so close now. He thought he might be going insane.

Malfoy had faint circles under his eyes, but they stood in contrast to his pale skin. Harry wondered when he had gotten out of detention. Malfoy would not glance his way, and it was maddening. He could see the tosser smirking which made it worse. He watched the Malfoy family hawk owl deliver his Christmas package and wanted to know what was inside. What could not wait two days for Malfoy to get home? He could go over and ask him, but Harry wanted Malfoy to want to tell him. Now he was sure he should reserve a bed at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. When had he ever obsessed over Malfoy like this? Then he remembered Malfoy’s mission to kill Dumbledore and how Harry had gone so far as to use the Marauder's Map and two house elves to track his every move. He might go find the map in his trunk. Harry forced his eyes away from the blonde-headed man and onto his plate.

“What do you reckon?” asked Ron.

Harry had no idea what Ron was referring to. He tried to remember some things they had been talking about. He had said Bill and Fleur were going to be home for Christmas. “I think it’s great, mate.”

“You think it’s great,” said Ron in such a way Harry knew he had gotten it wrong, “Slytherin is only 20 points behind us in the rankings?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Harry, quickly adding, “Our team does well with a challenge.”

Harry’s daze continued for the whole day. Another nights sleep had Harry feeling more clear headed. He had spent the night doing all of the essays he had put off to the last minute and felt he had done a passable job. With Hermione’s help he was able to understand the finer points of gaseous transfiguration. There had been no time to meet Malfoy or think much about him at all.

As he rushed out of the dormitory he remembered Malfoy had asked him to bring the invisibility cloak. In his haste he had not closed his bag properly and Hermione saw.

“Where are you going with your cloak?” Hermione asked.

“Dumbledore told me to keep it on me at all times,” Harry said stupidly.

“That was two years ago. And You were in danger then, Harry,” said Hermione. “There’s been nothing going on all year. I thought it’d be a welcome break to focus solely on our exams, but it’s been dull to tell the truth. George suggested I cause some mischief.”

“He might be onto something,” said Ron.

“I reminded him I’m a prefect and when we broke rules in the past it was in pursuit of knowledge.”

“And what did George have to say?” asked Harry.

“Oh, he said that was what he and Fred were doing, and we were going around playing the hero,” Hermione trailed off. 

“I’ve said for years,” said Ron a touch too loud, “I think Harry should be using his cloak to spy on Slytherin’s quidditch practice.”

Harry sighed. He had hoped they had gotten off of the subject of his invisibility cloak.

“It’s illegal, Ron,” said Hermione.

“‘Is not,” said Ron. “It’s the pursuit of knowledge. Anyway, there’s no more quidditch practices this year. So what are you doing tonight with the old rag?”

“Mischief, definitely,” said Harry without sparing another glance at Ron and Hermione as he exited through the portrait hole.

Their last potions class of the year was in the afternoon. Malfoy was sitting with Harry again. He had pulled his chair next to Harry so close their legs touched from hip to ankle. Harry saw Hermionie watching out of the corner of her eye. But when Draco asked, “Did you bring it?” she could not control herself. She beamed at Harry.

After the lesson Malfoy asked Harry if he wanted to walk around the lake.

“Can’t,” said Harry. “We’re going to Hagrid’s for tea. It’s our last chance and I’ve been putting him off for a while now.” He gave Malfoy a meaningful look to let him know it had been because of their trists. “You can come along.”

“No thanks,” said Malfoy. “There’s something else I can do. I’ll see you later.” Malfoy leaned in but stopped short. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, Ron and Hermione waiting for Harry.

Harry patted Malfoy on the arm. As they parted ways Hermione said under her breath so Ron could not hear, “I’m so glad you’ve found someone, Harry. You deserve happiness more than anyone I’ve known.”

Harry’s cheeks were burning. All he did was nod.

They spent the rest of their afternoon with Hagrid. Hagrid was full of warm cheer. He said his giant half-brother Gwarp was excited for the holidays. It was one of the few times of the year he ventured out of his cave. Hagrid asked if they would like to go visit him, and they politely declined. They drank tea and broke their teeth on Hagrid’s famous rock cakes. They laughed as they chatted, and Hagrid gave each of them a bone-grinding hug in farwell. Then it was back to the castle for the Christmas feast. He ate with Malfoy since he would be with Ron and Hermione for the break. All of Harry’s favorite foods were present and he indulged. Malfoy was impatient to leave early.

“Wait for dessert,” said Harry. “I can’t miss treacle tart.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t your house elf work here part-time? He can bring us some.”

“I won’t use Kreacher unless it’s crucial,” said Harry. “We wait for dessert.”

Malfoy crossed his arms and scowled. Harry thought he was adorable and said so.

“Careful, Potter,” said Malfoy. “You’re sensitive side is showing.”

The desserts came and Harry ate his fill. He had barely finished the last bite before Malfoy was dragging him out of the Great Hall.

“Do I get to find out why we need my cloak?” asked Harry.

“Yes. Put it on,” said Malfoy.

“You don’t need it?” said Harry throwing it over his shoulders.

Malfoy shook his head as he led Harry along a path Harry had walked once before.

“You’re taking me to the Slytherin dormitories?”

“How do you know where the Slytherin dormitories are?” Malfoy demanded.

“Do you remember in our second year, you stayed home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” said Draco.

“Well Hermione, Ron and I thought you might be the heir of Slytherin and we wanted to know for sure,” said Harry.

“Go on.” Malfoy was keenly listening.

“Hermione made polyjuice potion so Ron and I could question you about it as Crabbe and Goyle. You took us into the common room. And well, you weren’t the heir of Slytherin.”

Malfoy pondered it. “How did you manage to remove Crabbe and Goyle from the picture?”

“Spiked some cauldron cakes with sleeping draught,” said Harry. “It was right after the Christmas feast.”

“I remember. I knew something was wrong with those two, and now I know why. It was you and Weasley,” said Malfoy. “I’m flattered you thought so much of me.”

“You’re flattered we thought you were out to murder muggle-borns using Slytherin’s monster?”

Malfoy shrugged. “It’s an important wizarding family line with a long, rich history. Lineage.”

They were at the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon and the last word had been the password. The door swung open to a room filled with green filtered light. Harry followed Malfoy through and noticed a slight change in him. He stood a fraction taller and his shoulders relaxed. This was a place Malfoy felt more at home than anywhere else in the castle. It was his domain and Harry was thrilled to see him in it.

Malfoy led him farther into the dungeon to where the Slytherin’s slept. Though he could not see Harry, Malfoy opened the door and held out his arm for Harry to pass. What Harry saw stopped him short. There were no four poster beds. Instead, a single large bed piled with fluffy pillows and covered in red satin sheets dominated the room. Burning candles floated around the room, and a large rug covered the floor. There was no clutter like in Harry’s dorm, no posters of flying quidditch players, and no other men.

Harry flug off the cloak. “When did you do this?”

Malfoy closed the door. “Do you like it? I went to the kitchens and told Kreacher what I wanted to do. He’s fond of you. Anyway, he took everything away. I conjured the bed. Kreacher must have come back and added the candles and sprayed something. It smells… flowery.”

“Scarlet sheets?” Harry asked slyly.

“And a gold bed,” Malfoy said. “I thought you might like to feel at home.”

“I’ve never had a home like this.” Harry toed off his shoes. “Are you sure it doesn’t have more to do with your standard of living?” He pulled his robes over his head and launched into the pillows. It was the most comfortable bed Harry had ever been in. Harry hummed his contentment and spread out before he rolled onto his side to face Malfoy.

Malfoy was smirking.

“What?” Harry asked, bemused. “I don’t like it when my robes get tangled in my feet.” He kicked his legs to show Malfoy how much he could move.

Malfoy grazed his eyes up and down Harry’s body. “Harry Potter, the chosen one, comes willingly into this den of snakes,” Malfoy said. He began to disrobe.

“I’m prepared to fight my way out if it comes to it,” said Harry. He patted the space next to him.

Malfoy slid onto the bed and they met somewhere in the middle. Malfoy brushed his fingers through Harry’s hair. He ran a finger over Harry’s scar several times then down his nose and past his lips. He was mapping out the topography of Harry’s face with the reverence of a pioneer. Harry’s own hand rested on Malfoy’s hip. He squeezed it, and in this moment, he felt content.

Then Malfoy removed Harry’s glasses and rolled over to set them on the bedside table. When he rolled back to Harry he was holding something in his fist.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” said Malfoy and he held out his gift.

It was a thin chain of finely woven gold. From it hung a pendant shaped into the head of a stag. It was three dimensional and elegantly crafted. There were ten points on the antlers, and it had hairs etched across its face, so fine was the detail. Even its eyes were alive and proud.

Harry was in awe. “Where did you find this?”

“I made it,” Malfoy said. “There was an old wizard named Crastus Mobelius. He was an alchemist who wrote about jewelry making in the fourteenth century. Most of the Malfoy and Black family heirlooms were made using his methods. It’s got an unbreakable charm on it. It will never tarnish, and if you’re thinking of me, it’s eyes will glow green. It took several tries to get the eyes right, but I had to piece the magic together myself. It was done for selfish reasons.”

Harry was so impressed that he could not speak for a moment. “It’s beautiful. Put it on me?”

They raised onto their elbows so Malfoy could reach around his neck. It laid in the middle of Harry’s chest and the eyes glowed bright as emeralds. Harry leaned towards Malfoy and kissed him. Malfoy tried to pull him in deeper but Harry had brought his own gift for Malfoy.

“Accio, bag.” Harry’s schoolbag flew towards him. He rummaged inside until he found what he was searching for. He pulled out a small box and handed it to Malfoy.

“It isn’t much,” said Harry. “I definitely didn’t make it, but well, you’ll see.”

Malfoy lifted the lid to find several vials nested in velvet. They were equal in size, but each one contained a different liquid. He pulled out one with a curious expression.

Harry said, “I found them in a little shop in Hogsmeade. The one you’re holding reminded me of you. It’s a simple scented oil. Some of the others have magical elements I thought we could try out some time. And the tarish one has transformative properties. I’m not sure what you’d use it for, but I thought it was neat.”

Malfoy unstoppered the vial he was holding and sniffed. His face did not give anything away, but he dabbed a few drops on his neck. He leaned into Harry and asked, “How do I smell?”

Harry inhaled and the mingled smells of wood and cool mint mixed with Malfoy’s musk stirred in his stomach. He gruffed out, “Really good, mate.”

Malfoy pressed their mouths together and said against Harry’s lips, “Thanks, Potter.” He took out a few more and read the descriptions. He raised a brow at one and his eyes darkened a shade at another. He put the box next to Harry’s glasses. He propped his head on his bent arm and smirked at Harry. “Now I have to ask. What is with your socks?”

“Oh, those,” Harry laughed and wiggled his toes. “Dobby the house elf told me once socks should be garish and mismatched. I sort of do it as a way to remember him.”

“You are so odd, Potter. I never thought to befriend him.” Dobby had worked for the Malfoy’s before Harry had set him free by tricking Lucius into giving him a pair of dirty socks.

“Me neither,” said Harry truthfully. “But it’s how it worked out.”

“I think if you weren’t such a bull headed Gryffindor then you would have been in Hufflepuff.”

Harry was taken aback. The sorting hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin. Hufflepuff had never been a part of the conversation. “What makes you say so?”

“You’re kidding, right? Ok,” Malfoy began, “You’re incredibly loyal to your friends, no matter their race. Who else can say they’ve gained the trust of elves and giants and centaurs? Newt Scarmander, that’s who, and he was a ‘Puff. And you give kind and thoughtful gifts.”

Harry blushed then diverted the conversation from himself. “Well if there had ever been even the slightest chance you weren’t in Slytherin then you’d have been in Ravenclaw.”

Malfoy’s face puckered. “Never. Slytherin till the end.”

“I think you mean, Go, Go, Gryffindor!”

“You speak blaspheme here, amid the sanctity of my house,” Malfoy bellowed in mock outrage. “Take it back, intruder, interloper, FEIND!”

Harry sat on his knees and put his fists on his hips. “I’ll never give up. Like bold Gryffindor, I’ll never surrender. You’ll have to take me by force!”

Malfoy tackled Harry to the bed and tried to pin him down, and Harry tried to do the same. They were both laughing and their attempts to hold the other one down was light-hearted. It went on, and Harry began to nip at Malfoy every chance he could get his mouth close to his skin. In return, Malloy clamped his mouth on Harry’s neck. Harry shuddered and in a last effort rolled Malfoy over and lay on top of him. Malfoy automatically locked his ankles around Harry’s waist. They still laughed between heavy breaths.

“I like this, Potter,” said Malfoy, “you and me.”

“I like it too,” said Harry.

“Do you think when we get back from the break we could be together publically?” Malfoy asked.

Harry rolled off Malfoy. “What, like boyfriends?”

Malfoy nodded. “I was thinking of telling my family and thought you could tell yours. Well, you know what I mean, tell the Weasleys.”

Harry nodded considering what it would be like to tell them. “Hermione knows. Not in so many words, but she’s too clever to be loud about it.”

“Then it won’t be hard for you,” said Malfoy.

Harry realized it would be hard for Malfoy to tell his parents. Harry had been at odds with Malfoy’s father too many times for it to go over well. But telling Ron seemed just as daunting. Hadn’t he said it was wrong to be with Malfoy? Then again, it might clear some issues still lingering between him and Ron. “Alright, Malfoy, you’re on.”


	7. Malloy Manners

Draco awoke wrapped in Potter. He did not want to move and break the spell of a quiet morning in his lover’s arms. The previous night had not gone exactly to plan. He had expected to finally get Potter inside of him, but he did not think it could have been any better, the way it had played out. On their return, he and Potter would be officially dating. It was enough to make him feel giddy. Potter muttered something in his sleep then burrowed further into Malfoy. Yep, life could be sweet after all, and he drifted back to sleep.

The next time Draco woke it was to Potter shaking him. He peered through blurred eyes at a fully dressed Potter. He sat up, fully awake.

“Sorry to wake you,” Potter said. “I didn’t want you to get up and wonder where I went off to.”

“What time is it?” Draco asked.

“The train leaves in under an hour, and I’ve yet to pack,” said Harry. “I’ll see you on it though, yeah?”

“Sure.” Draco said. He lifted his chin. “Give me a kiss before you run off.”

Potter obliged and Draco immediately wrapped his arms around Potter and pulled him down. He fell back onto the pillows with Potter fully on top of him. His cock began to fill. This is what he would be missing for the next few weeks, and he wanted to remember every part. It was a slow wet kiss. By the time he let Potter go it was so late Draco knew he would be running all the way to Gryffindor tower.

Draco’s mother always had extra things for him on the holidays so there was no need for him to pack. He went to the Great Hall to eat before the long train ride back to London. He took a meandering walk through the grounds eventually following the one leading him into Hogsmead. He did not go to the train station right off, instead wandering through the street. Potter had said he had found his Christmas gift in one of these shops. He kept an eye out but had not found the place before he had to embark on the train.

Students filled the compartments, joyous for the holiday. He searched for Potter and was disappointed to see he was sitting with several people. Ernie MacMillan was showing Potter something Potter was desperately uninterested in. The two Weasleys were there along with Granger, Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. He could have squeezed in but did not feel like sitting cramped all the way home. He continued on, trying to suppress the disappointment he felt. He sat in the first empty compartment he found and laid his head back, prepared to nap. He dozed on and off. The trolley cart passed, but he did not feel like having any treats just yet. The afternoon rolled by, rain started to fall, and as the clouds grew darker, so did Draco’s mood.

The door opened and Potter strode across the car to sit in front of him. They locked eyes. Potter was such an open book, impressions of his thoughts laid out before Draco. He was usually glad Potter was a failed Occlumen, but he was still too put out to care all he was seeing his own face.

“Took you this long to get away from MacMillan?” Draco crossed his arms and his legs.

“I thought I saw you walk by,” said Potter. “Hermione is making Ron perform prefect duties. I took the chance to come find you.”

“Noble of you,” said Draco.

“You’re mad at me,” said Potter

Draco sighed. “No. I wanted to spend the trip with you, is all.”

Potter nodded, all too understanding. “I was saving you a seat, but MacMillan can misread a room, and…”

“I get it, Potter,” said Draco, cutting Potter off. He turned to gaze out the window. He could see the city lights in the distance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter cross over to his side of the compartment. He scowled at him. “What are you doing?”

Potter leaned in to Draco’s space. “I don’t want to part like this. Want a game of exploding snaps? Or I could make something else explode.” He glanced at Draco’s pants.

“Very funny, Potter,” said Malfoy unamused.

Potter sighed and laid his head on Draco’s shoulder. “Have it your way then. I’m not fussed.”

Draco uncrossed his arms and put one around Potter so he rested in the crook of his arm. His fingers went into Potter’s messy hair.

“You like that,” said Potter, “to have your hand in my hair.”

“I guess I do,” said Malfoy.

Potter watched him through long lashes. His almond shaped eyes were coy. “I like it too.”

Malfoy wanted to kiss him and settled for his forehead which struck him as a far more intimate thing to do. It pleased Potter though. He settled back into Malfoy’s arm and rested his hand on Malfoy’s thigh. They rode without moving all the way into the station. The train had fully stopped, students were pulling down their trunks in the hall, and still Malfoy and Potter were reluctant to move.

“I can see the Weasleys,” said Draco. “It’s a sea of red hair.”

“They’ll be missing me soon,” said Harry.

“Yeah, my mother too,” said Draco.

The parting kiss they shared was too brief. 

Draco walked out ahead of Potter who needed to retrieve his trunk. He passed by the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley was holding a baby with lavender hair and rubbing Weasley’s cheek, which Draco snickered at. Mr. Weasley was talking to the Weasley sister with an arm around her shoulders. And the twin was kissing Granger all over her face. She pushed him away saying, “Your mother is right there,” but she was smiling and returned his kiss when he got her full on the mouth.

His mother stood off from everyone else. She stood tall and proud, but Draco knew she was uncomfortable here. She held out a hand as he approached, and he took it. She squeezed it firmly in her hand, and he bent to place a kiss on her cheek.

“It’s good to see you mother,” said Draco.

She smiled tightly. “It’s good to see you too, son.”

They Apperated from the station to Malfoy Manor. It was an impressive house and had been in his family for centuries. Generations of great wizards had lived and breathed on these grounds and in these halls. The grounds sprawled in all directions through several forests; he was not exactly sure where they ended. He explored them as a child and had gotten lost on more than one occasion. He enjoyed camping in the summertime, though it was like living in a smaller version of the Manor in the wooded areas rather than on manicured lawns. The peacocks were not around because they were not fond of the winter and stayed in an enclosure. Seeing his home always caused a sense of pride in the Malfoy name, and he was reminded of those feelings now. 

He strode along the hedge lined path and through the great doors, past the grand stairs and to the back stairwell leading directly to his room. He shut the door and fell face first on the bed. His mother would get him in an hour or so for dinner. 

Christmas was a quiet affair. He and his mother sat in the kitchen and ate. They had not used the dining room since the Dark Lord had been here. It was closed off in a vein hope the murder of Charity Burbage, the late Muggle studies professor, would stay forgotten. He had shared the experience with Potter on the night they had talked in the Great Hall until dawn. Otherwise, Draco did not think about it. Then he and his mother exchanged gifts. She had gotten him a new set of green dress robes and a manicure set with potions for his hair and nails. He had gotten her a pin for her hair. He had not made it. The magic was difficult and needed to be worked for long periods of time. Other than those simple rituals, Christmas day passed like any other.

Two days later was quite a different story. His mother woke him up early. She came in coiffed as ever, nothing out of place. The lines under and around her eyes were the only sign she was strained. Draco did not think she had slept. He knew he had not.

“It’s time to go get your father, Draco,” she said. “He will be released in a half hour. Get dressed, come eat some toast, and we can leave for the Ministry.”

Draco wanted to refuse, but he said, “Yes, mother.”

As they left the Manor, Draco thought he had never been so cold. The wind cut through his wool coat, and clouds hung low in the sky as if dementors were nearby. He shuddered.

The Ministry of Magic had gone through three transformations in as many years. No statue greeted them as they stepped into the grand entrance. The first one had been destroyed in a battle between The Dark Lord and Dumbledore, and the second had been removed because it contained disturbing images. There was an ongoing debate about what it should be replaced with. In the letter he had drafted to the ministry on behalf of S.P.E.W (he and Granger needed to change the name soon), there was a section compelling the ministry to celebrate the differences in magic by portraying other races as equals to wizards and acknowledging magic’s varied uses. Granger had sent out copies a month before the break had ended. The floo networks were back on as well. Witches and wizards flitted in and out with their work. 

Draco and his mother took the lifts down to the courtrooms for the Wizengamot after registering their wands. They found a seat near the door. Minister Shaklebolt was already present, and he cast an impressive figure in his purple robes. The air around him shimmered, and Draco wondered what kind of protection was around him. The Minister had not had an easy job so far. He was pushing ideas wizarding families like the Malfoys stood against and found resistance at every turn. Not many other officials were present. One of the Weasleys was there. The snobby one. Draco could not remember his name.

Then two burly blokes brought his father in. Lucius was scraggly. He had an uneven beard over his face and his hair was knotted in several places. Large bags hung under his eyes. He tried for a smile when he saw his family, but it was weak and revealed yellowing teeth. He sat in a chair facing the minister, the cuffs around his wrists and ankles rattling with his movements. He gazed into his hands while he waited for the proceedings to begin.

“Lucius Malfoy,” said Shaklebolt, “you are here for your release, negotiated after identifying and revealing information on Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Corban Yaxley, Vincent Crabbe Sr, Gregory Goyle Sr, Theodore Nott Sr, Mulciber Sr and Jr, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rosier Sr, Selwyn, Thorfinn Rowle, and Walden McNair as known Death Eaters who took part in the Second Wizarding War under the leadership of Tom Riddle a.k.a Lord Voldemort. Is this correct?”

“Yes,” his father hissed.

“And do you understand the terms of your release state if the Ministry believes you have relevant information, you will return to answer any questions truthfully and honestly, and if you should fail to do so you will be returned to Azkaban?”

“Yes.”

“And do you understand if the Ministry believes you are withholding information or finds that you have been engaging in criminal activity such as performing dark magic or aiding and abetting known and wanted criminals, the terms of your release will be nullified, and you will be returned to Azkaban?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, member of Wizengamot first class do hereby release you to your family.” Shaklebolt concluded, “You may retrieve your wand at the registration desk.”

The chains disappeared and Lucius stood to join his family. He grabbed Draco’s mother by the shoulder, and she said, “Come, Son.”

Draco stood, but before he left he bowed to the minister. He wanted to show he was grateful for his father’s release and fully on their side. It had felt a little awkward to bow, but the minister raised a brow and nodded to Draco. Then Draco turned and followed his parents.

They were home moments later. Draco’s father went to wash. His mother patted Draco on the arm then followed Lucius to set out his clothes. Draco went back to his room and fell on the bed. He would have gone back to sleep, but now that his father was home, he wanted to tell his parents about his relationship with Potter. His gut clenched at the thought, but the longer he put it off, the harder it would be.

He joined his parents for dinner and barely ate. They did not notice. With every bite his father became more cheerful. He asked after Malfoy’s studies and his mother’s ongoings.

“It’s so good to be home, safe, warm, and with family.” He beamed at Draco. “It is only a disappointment I could not be home on Christmas. The minister has his own ideas about what is funny.”

“The minister has been busy with more than a defector’s trial,” Draco said to his plate.

Lucius’s good cheer evaporated, and his lips pulled into a sneer. “Busy with things like letters from S.P.E.W?” Draco’s head shot up. Lucius went on, “So it’s true. I thought Shaklebolt was lying when he told me, but you have gone and joined a mudblood. And for what? Elf rights?” Lucius laughed.

“May I be excused?” asked Draco.

His mother began to nod but his father yelled, “Stay in your seat!”

Draco did as he was told, but he also pointedly glared at his father.

“What is wrong with you, boy?” Lucius asked.

“Nothing, father,” said Draco. “All I meant by it was to join the ministry on the right foot. The Wizarding World has been changing quickly, and it would be best if we kept up.”

“I know what you mean,” said Lucius. “You would support the end of the age of wizards.”

Draco was taken aback. It was the only alternative his father saw. Either the wizards were in power or they were not. Draco did not need to worry about forming an argument. His father dismissed him. “I want you out of my sight.”

Draco silently went to his room. He had not gotten to mentioning Potter. He shook with anger, felt a stinging in his eyes. He paced back and forth. He needed to say it. He needed to get it over with now. He marched back downstairs and found his father in the drawing room. His mother sat in the far corner, reading a book.

Lucius spoke to Draco without lifting his eyes from his work. “Is there something else you wanted to add?”

“Y-yes,” Draco stammered. He tried again after clearing his throat. “Yes. I’ve been seeing someone and it’s serious. I’m serious about him. And I wanted you to know.”

His mother rose from her seat, happiness brightening her face for the first time in months. His father was too still to not have heard, but he did not share his thoughts.

“Who is it, Draco?” his mother asked.

“Harry Potter,” said Draco.

The world felt like it had stopped. His mother’s face froze then her eyes darted toward his father. As for his father, it was too much to ignore. He stared at Draco, uncomprehending. “I’m sorry?” The words were barely audible.

“I think you heard me, father,” said Draco. “I’m dating Harry Potter.”

“I’ve spent the past six months in Azkaban only to come home and find out on the very day of my return, my son, my only son, is a blood traitor twice over?” Lucius asked himself. His face contorted into a mask of rage and disgust. Draco knew what was coming, had considered it time and again. His father stood. “Not under my roof. Leave. Go. I do not want you in my home.”

“Lucius!” Draco’s mother cried. “He is your son.”

“I don’t care; I want him out,” Lucius spat.

Draco’s mother rushed forward. “Stay,” she said to Draco, then, “It’s only for another week, Lucius.”

Fire blazed in Lucius’s eyes, stoking the hate there. He stalked towards Draco. Draco took a few steps back before turning to leave. His father chased him all the way to the gate. He could hear his mother crying behind him, begging for them to come back inside. He could not stay. His father might find him if he camped on the grounds. There was no way he was going to the Weasley’s house, no matter how badly he wanted to be with Potter. He crossed the gate and apperated to the only person he knew would take him in. He was going to see his ex-girlfriend. He was going to see Pansy Parkinson.


	8. Some Announcements

Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas at the Burrow. It was the first time every Weasley was present for the holidays, and Mrs. Weasley could not have been happier. She had gone all out on the decorations. Garland and fairy lights lined the walls and fireplace and every other surface. Smells of nutmeg and ginger permeated the house, and Celestine Warbeck played on a loop. Unpleasant figures of elves in santa hats could be found unexpectedly, bells jingled every time a door opened, and the tree in the living room danced merrily. Snow fell from the ceiling and melted before it hit the floor. Crookshanks wore a knitted sweater. He seemed to put up with it, but only because everyone told him he was so handsome. Fleur could be found regarding the scene around her in abject horror. 

Otherwise, the only moment to dampen their spirits was when Mrs. Weasley was hanging the stockings and could not decide what to do with Fred’s. She stared at it as if it might give her the answer she needed before Hermione took it from her and hung it next to George’s stocking. Mrs. Weasley dabbed tears from her eyes for the rest of the day. At the same time it was her good fortune she had so many shoulders to lean on. Her sons took turns comforting her, none more than Percy who had been there when Fred died. George could not be found anywhere. When Hermione went to find him, she had not returned.

Everyone woke the next day refreshed. An intense game of quidditch was going on in the backyard. Harry played seeker against Charlie. Bill and George playing on his team, and Percy and Ginny playing on the opposing team while Ron played all-time Keeper. Fleur watched on the sidelines with Hermione where they cheered with obvious bias. Charlie only got the snitch out from under him once out of the dozens of attempts. He was too good-natured to care, but he ribbed Harry for having dodged only one dragon on a broom to his dozens. When they went in for dinner, every one of them was red faced and breathless.

Towards the end of dinner, Harry overheard Fleur, who was sitting on his right, ask Bill, “Beel, I want to tell zem now. I am to ‘appy and I want to share it with the family.”

Bill must have agreed because he was asking for everyone’s attention. “Fleur and I have some news. We’re going to have a baby.”

The room was uproarious. Everyone stood. Mrs. Weasley got to them first even though she was at the other end of the table. She kissed Bill on the cheek and wrapped Fleur in a hug. She was crying over the welcome news and could be heard saying, “I’m going to be a grandmum,” to everyone in turn. Mr. Weasley shook Bill’s hand while Charlie slapped him so hard on the back Bill had to brace his feet to keep from falling over. George joined in on the other side, and Bill jostled between his brothers. They were much gentler with Fleur and showed their enthusiasm with kisses, hugs and congratulations. Percy needled Bill about his preparation plans for the baby. 

George cut him off saying, “Parents always mess it up on the first kid, but you know all about that, don’t you, Bill. They perfect it around four or five. I dunno what Ron’s excuse is.” 

Ron scowled at George so when he bent to give Fleur a hug, he banged their heads together. Hermione pushed him aside and petted Fleur, examining her forehead for any marks. Harry was holding Teddy and saying, “You’ll have a friend your own age soon.”

“I am ‘oping for a girl and I would like eet best if she ‘as my ‘air. I do not care if she ‘as Beel’s face as long as she does not ‘ave this awful ‘air color,” Fleur said loudly to Ginny.

“Well isn’t this wondrous,” George said over everyone. “Bill and Fleur are having a baby. Hermione and I are getting married. It’s a beautiful day for the Weasley’s and Harry.”

Mrs. Weasley screamed but did not approach when she noticed Hermionie’s baffled face.

George spun around then turned back to Hermione, “Didn’t I ask?” He patted himself down in an exaggerated manner and pulled out a black velvet box. Then he got on one knee. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Marry me, will you?” He opened the box and presented a large and, what Harry assumed, expensive ring to Hermione.

Hermione smiled with tears in her eyes. “Yes.”

George slid the ring on her finger and stood to wrap Hermione in his arms. In front of his entire family he gave her the most indecent kiss.

“George, let her go,” scolded Mrs. Weasley. “I want to hug my future daughter-in-law.”

George obliged but only because it was his mother who was asking. Another round of hugs followed. More brotherly slaps ensued, this time for George and kisses given to Hermione. Mr. Weasley popped a bottle of champagne, and everyone cheersed, Flur using bubbling juice. 

George raised his glass to the ceiling and looking skyward, he said, “Cheers mate. Wish you were here for this one.” He downed his glass then proclaimed, “Now Hermione and I won’t have to sneak around anymore. We can share a room. You don’t mind bunking with Charlie, do you Perce?”

Hermione was too elated to be embarrassed by George. She, Fleur and Mrs. Weasley were fawning over her ring and discussing baby names.

The house was chaos, and Harry loved it. The following week went by faster than any in Harry’s life. He was so happy, but when he spared a thought for Malfoy, he felt guilty for forgetting about him and the promise he had made. It seemed small to tell everyone he was dating Malfoy when there had been other, much bigger announcements. It was difficult to get a word in with so much baby talk and wedding planning. Every time he thought of bringing it up, someone else would start a new conversation. Then George cornered him with Hermione behind him, and they brought it up for him.

“Can I have a word?” George did not wait for a response before opening his bedroom door for Harry. “Hermione told me you’re dating Draco Malfoy.”

“Straight to it then,” said Harry.

Hermione scolded George. “I told you about them in confidence. I’m so sorry, Harry. I had no idea he would react this way.”

“I just want to be sure he’s not sick in the head,” George said. “To me it sounds mental. You’re sleeping with the enemy.”

“I told you, George, Draco’s making an effort. For goodness sakes, he’s not the enemy, and as I’ve said many times, I’ve forgiven him. Besides, you haven’t seen the two of them together. They really fancy one another.”

Harry wanted to know what Hermione meant by ‘you haven’t seen them together,’ but he addressed George. “We aren’t public with it yet, but we have been seeing each other.” It felt good to say out loud until George replied.

“If I were you, I’d keep it that way.”

Hermione scoffed. “Don’t listen to him, Harry. You and Draco make a good couple. I think you could be really great for each other. I want you to know when you’re ready to tell people, you’ll have mine and George’s support.”

“Since when do you speak for me?” asked George.

“Since you gave me a ring,” Hermione said, holding up her left hand. “And because I know Harry is your friend, and you care about his happiness. Because whether you like it or not, Draco Malfoy makes Harry happy.”

“Sorry, Harry,” George said. “I knew Ginny was too good for you, but Draco Malfoy? It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

“It is a bit of a turn around,” said Harry.

“Well it makes sense to me,” said Hermione.

“Of course it does, and I love you for it. Nothing gets past you,” said George. “Care to share your insights?”

“They hated each other,” Hermione said.

“It’s what makes this entire thing so confusing,” George said.

Hermione went on. “When you put as much hatred aside as Harry and Malfoy had for one another, the passion doesn’t just go away. It takes on a new form. Love.”

“Well hang on,” said Harry. “Nobody said anything about love. He and I have fun together, and the sex has been phenomenal. We are together a lot, and.. and we aren’t in love.”

“I see it now. He’s smitten like a kitten,” George said.

“Show him your necklace,” Hermione said.

“How do you know about my necklace?” Harry asked.

“It fell out of your shirt while you were playing Quidditch. I saw you stuff it back under your collar,” Hermione explained.

Harry pulled out the stag pendant for George and Hermione to see. The eyes glowed green. “Malfoy gave it to me before we left for the break.”

George whistled. “This is some quality magic. Where’d he get it?”

“He made it,” said Harry.

“He made it?” George was shocked. “Mate, your bloke is in love with you. I hope you got him something good?”

“I found some oils from the little shop across from the Hog’s Head for him,” said Harry.

George nodded appreciatively. “I know the place. Aberforth pointed me towards their elixirs. We’ve used some of their products before. You should pick some more up for us, Hermione. It’s a good gift. I guess it’s only Won Won who doesn’t have a partner. He’s going to feel left out.”

“He already does,” Harry said.

“But for the wrong reasons,” said Hermione. “You should tell him.”

But Harry did not tell him or anyone else about Malfoy. Christmas passed and he did not say anything. There had been so much happening. After opening his gifts, they had spent the day cleaning and setting up for Christmas dinner. They would have more people than usual. Andromeda Tonks had become a permanent member of the family with Teddy after their great loss. Penelope Clearwater, Percy’s long-term girlfriend would be joining them along with Neville and his gran. Luna Lovegood and her father, Xenophelius, lived nearby. They dropped by in the afternoon and stayed for dinner as well after Mr. Weasley extended the invitation. All in all, Harry was constantly doing something or talking with a new arrival. His Christmas wish for the year was to spend as many moments as he could just like this but with the addition of Malfoy by his side.

Two days later Malfoy arose in conversation without his help. Percy Weasley came home from work at the Ministry. He had accepted a new position as head of restoration and reformation efforts under Kingsley Shacklebolt, and he sat most of the trials on the Wizengamot as an understudy.

“Lucius Malfoy was released today,” he said at the dinner table. “Not many people are happy with him on either side, but what can you say for a defector? No one will ever trust him again. He will try to get back in with the Ministry, of course. Lucius is as tenacious as he is slippery.”

“He’s applying for a governor’s position,” said Mr. Weasley. “Dedalus told me this afternoon.”

“There’s no chance,” said Percy confidently. “The Ministry is rid of him. His son, Draco, did something odd. He was at the proceeding, his usual self as far as I could tell, but he bowed at the minister. Lucius and Narcissa were leaving, and he stopped to pay proper respect. There may still be hope for him.”

“He’s joined S.P.E.W,” said Hermione. “Did the minister get his letter? We sent out several copies to different officials.”

“A letter did find its way to the minister. We weren’t sure how seriously to take it,” said Percy.

“It’s very serious,” said Hermione. “I’ve decided to go into activism work on behalf of other magical races. Draco, Harry and Ron have committed to helping the cause.”

George squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. Saving the world, protecting lives. Dragging Ron into endeavors he has no interest in against his will.”

Ron said, “Watch it,” and pointed his spoon at George.

“I’ll let the minister know he should review the letter more closely then,” said Percy. “And I’ll look forward to helping your efforts in future. I think it’s a noble cause. You’ll have my support.”

“Thank you, Percy,” said Hermione. “I think I’ll write Draco and let him know he should expect a reply from the Minister. Is there anything you’d like me to add, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes darted around the room before he said, “No, nothing from me.”

Hermione frowned at him, but she did not push any more.

Guilt washed over Harry again. He had blown off the perfect opportunity to come clean, and it felt like a betrayal. He hoped Hermione would at least send his regards, but he did not think he could say anything to Malfoy if he could not also report they were openly dating. Besides, he still had one more week to come clean to Ron about his relationship with Malfoy. There was plenty of time.


	9. Draco Alone

Draco apparated to the train station. Pansy had offered to accompany him, but Draco had declined. When Draco has arrived at her house, she had welcomed him in mild surprise. Draco did not need to tell her anything. It was not the only time she had heard from him because of his father, but it was the first time he had shown up unannounced. She had been so sweet he started crying. He told her everything over tea, and to her credit she was not disgusted at the mention of Potter. He laid his head in her lap, and she ran her hand over his hair. The familiarity of it was so comforting to Draco he had fallen asleep. 

He had slept through the night and was woken by Mrs. Parkinson because his mother had come to see if he was there. She had begged Draco to return home, but he was not so sure. His mother had avoided any mention of his father, so Draco had stayed with the Parkinson’s until it was time to return to Hogwarts.

He had arrived early which was a mistake. His stomach roiled continually and a jolt went through him every time someone came through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. His heart would sink again when it was not Potter. Then he was there, better than Draco remembered. He was waiting for Potter to finish saying his goodbyes but Draco was impatient. If he could not walk up to Potter now, then were they really dating?

He sauntered up behind Potter and draped an arm over him. His hand covered his chest, and Draco was elated to feel the bulge under his shirt from the stag pendant. But when he leaned in to kiss Potter, Potter pulled away. His heart stopped beating altogether. Too late he noticed the terror on Potter’s face and the assortment of baffled and dejected stares on the Wesleys. Only Granger and the twin seemed unsurprised by his presence. It came to him all at once: Potter had not told them. Draco’s arm fell to his side and he could feel tears springing to his eyes.

Draco turned and rushed away before any of the Wesleys could see him crying. He was able to find a compartment and sit, head in hands, before uncontrollable sobs racked his body. Potter’s rejection stung more than Draco thought possible. This was supposed to be his refuge and his reward after such a disastrous Christmas. He had been so wrong to put so much faith in Potter. It had ended in heartbreak. 

A hand fell on his back, and Draco sat bolt upright. It was Potter. Draco sneered as his tears fell in a steady stream. He jumped to his feet to get some distance, and Potter stood too so they were on the same level.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” said Potter, “so, so sorry.”

Draco scoffed.

“I promised to tell them by the end of the break, and now I have,” said Potter.

Is this what Potter was thinking? Everything would be squared because the chosen one came clean but only when he was forced. Anger rose so hot, Draco cocked his arm back and punched Potter square in the face. His glasses shattered, but Draco only felt better for it.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco said. He stalked from the compartment. He may have taken it too far and hit Potter again if he stayed.

Draco could not stem the flow of tears. He could not focus on any one thought, just the sorrow ripping at his insides. He would rather have stayed at Malfoy Manor in the presence of his father than feel this way. The compartment door opened.

“Go away, Potter,” he spat.

“It’s me,” said a feminine voice.

Draco was temporarily shocked enough to see Granger sitting across from him the tears stopped. But as he took in her pitying gaze, they began anew.

“He deserved that,” she said. “He can be such an idiot. He did tell everyone, and he knows it was too late. I don’t think he realized how much it meant to you. He should have. But he cares for you quite a lot, and he feels terrible. He didn’t want Ginny to fix his glasses.”

Draco snorted in reply.

“I know it’s no comfort,” Granger said. “Is there anything I can do?”

Draco shook his head. So Granger conjured some tea and passed him a cup. The heat coming from it was his only source of warmth. They sat in silence for a while.

“You don’t have to stay,” Draco said. “I’m not very good company.”

“There’s nowhere I particularly want to be,” said Granger kindly.

Draco sniffed. He wondered if there was something in the tea calming him, but he suspected Granger was just a good person. “Tell me something happy. How was your Christmas?”

Granger’s face lit up, and she said, “George and I are getting married.” She held out her hand where Draco saw a large princess cut diamond encircled with small rubies. “We aren’t getting married until after I’ve found a job. George says he’s stable enough it’s not necessary, but it wouldn’t feel right to me. You’ll be at the wedding, even if you and Harry never make amends. You’ve been so helpful with the elf rights campaign already. I think we’ll really be able to make a difference.”

Draco smiled tentatively. “I haven’t received a letter from the Minister, but you’ll be the first to know when I do. And congratulations. It’s brilliant, you and George.”

“Was your Christmas good?” Granger asked. “Percy told us about your father’s release.”

Draco shook his head. “Christmas was just my mother and I. We didn’t do much. I want to talk about my father less than I want to talk about Potter.” Then he followed with, “I told him about me and Potter. He didn’t take it too well. He’ll be happy to know it’s over.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s over quite yet,” said Granger. “Harry isn’t one to let something go at the first hurdle.”

“Tell him not to bother,” said Draco.

“I won’t do it,” said Granger. “If anything I’ll be helping him figure out the best way to go about getting you back. I can’t imagine you’ll make it easy for him. He’ll be desperate.”

Draco was so grateful to her for saying those things, and he might even believe her. He laughed, but the snot in his nose turned it into a pathetic gurgle. “Thanks, Hermione. You’re a good friend.”

She leaned over and patted his knee.

Draco went straight to bed when they returned to the castle. He had cried himself to exhaustion. The next morning his eyes were so puffy he considered staying in bed, but then he remembered the box of oils still on his bedside table. One of the vials contained a reducing potion. A drop under each eye had him back to normal. His reflection was wan so he put on his best sneer, and it hid the worst of his emotions. 

Draco was starving, having eaten nothing since yesterday’s breakfast. He was one of the first to arrive in the Great Hall that morning. Despite the availability of seats, he walked to the opposite end of the hall and sat with his back to the Gryffindor table. He would not look for Potter to enter the hall, but he needed to remove any temptations. Draco munched continually on bacon and sausage links, and may have eaten half a dozen eggs as well as a plate of buttered toast and a bowl of mixed berries.

It was more difficult to avoid Potter in Potions class without a plate of food to distract him and dozens of students between them. He could feel Potter’s gaze on the back of his head. Once or twice he snuck a peek at Potter. He was so hopeful to catch Draco’s eye, Draco had to scowl. Towards the end of his lesson, he felt a sting on his leg. He ignored it as best as he could, but another set of sparks lit his robes. Draco finished his potion in record time. It wasn’t his best work, but he was able to leave early and get away from Potter’s attempts to get a reaction out of him. Later he would think about it, and it would soften him, but there was no way Draco would ever show Potter that he affected him. 

It was Granger who sat with him at dinner now. Potter had only tried to sit with him once, but Draco had left the table before Potter could reach him. His conversations with Granger focused around school, elf rights and mundane matters. One week and then two passed with no mentions of Potter. It was the eve of the next Hogsmeade visit when Hermione brought him up.

“Draco,” she began, “have you happened to glance at Harry at all the past week or so?”

In fact, he had been diligent in his efforts to avoid Potter with a fair amount of success. He said as much to Granger.

“Maybe you should and see if you notice anything,” Grange said.

For the first time in at least a week, he searched for Potter. It made him angry to find Potter watching him. Their eyes locked, and Potter was so suddenly happy his stomach did somersaults. He turned back to Granger. “Ok. He’s a pathetic prick.”

“Did you see his robes?”

It was such an odd request Draco complied. There lying against his chest for all to see was the stag pendant. It’s eyes glowed so green Draco could make it out from here.

“He told me about the charm you added. It was very clever,” said Granger. “It doesn’t fade. Not even when he should be studying.”

Draco scoffed. Big deal, so what if Potter thought about Draco as much as Draco thought about him? But it was the first time Draco considered the possibility of a reconciliation.

Granger said, “I’m only saying anything because he’s planning on cornering you in Hogsmeade tomorrow. You should know he’s been patient and giving you space, but it won’t last. I think if you’re serious about him you should hear what he has to say. I’m not saying you should forgive him straight away, but, well, he misses you, and I know you miss him too.”

Draco glowered.

“He asked me to sit with you. Not that I wouldn’t have otherwise, but he doesn’t want you to be alone. He’s been so concerned for you. It’s primarily why he’s been thinking about you so much. He really has been considering your feelings. I’ve actually been impressed. He’s never been so mature.”

“Give it a rest, Granger,” said Draco. “I get what you’re saying. I’ll hear him out.”

Draco slept fitfully. He alternatively felt a giddy anxiety and a furious temper. He convinced himself to stay at Hogwarts then determined to go to Hogsmeade. Back and forth he went, never landing on a decision until he was bundled in his coat and scarf trekking down the lane into Hogsmeade. There had been no plan to meet Potter. All Granger had said was he would find Draco. He did not feel like making it easy on Potter. He went to Honeydukes first. It was crowded in the shop and hard to find anyone. He bought an acid pop then moved on. At Zonko’s he found mostly Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products. He did not buy anything here but browsed amiably. He wanted a butterbeer and felt lonely enough to travel to the Hog’s Head for it. Potter had told him the proprietor was Dumbledore’s brother. He could not unsee the similarities in their features and was baffled no one had put it together while the old Headmaster had been alive. Across the street he found the shop Potter had gone to for his Christmas gifts. He took the shopkeepers card. It only had the witch’s name on it and the location. It seemed like bad business practice but then it did add an air of mystery. He bounced from shop to shop, never staying long, with no sign of Potter. Had he been too difficult to find? He decided he needed to take in the fresh air and cool off so he trudged up the hill to the Shrieking Shack. Rumors were the place was haunted.

He was gazing towards the mountains when a snowball caught Draco unawares in the side of the head. He whirled around. Potter had found him.


	10. The Boy Who Lived: In Lights

Harry had found Malfoy easily. After arriving in Hogsmeade, Harry waited in the street until he spotted Malfoy walk out of the shop across from the Hog’s Head. He did not make his presence known right away and instead followed at a distance to watch Malfoy unencumbered. His heart went out to him as Malfoy stuffed his hands in his pockets and braced against the wind. They were headed towards the Shrieking Shack. Malfoy stopped outside the fence surrounding the ramshackle shack and gazed into the distance. Harry wondered what was going through his mind. He could not be sure, but Malfoy seemed to be doing marginally better than he had at the start of term. 

Then Harry had thrown the stupid snowball. Malfoy was murderous but Harry was too happy to finally have his attention. He may have gone about it the wrong way, but there it was. On this, he would be unapologetic.

“Watch yourself, Malfoy,” said Harry.

Malfoy wiped ice from his face. “Potter! What was that for?”

Harry shrugged. “It seemed like a thing to do.”

Malfoy fumed, “I cannot believe you, Potter. You have some nerves.”

“I’m new to being boyfriends. It was done with affection,” Potter said. “Forgive me?”

“No!” Malfoy shouted. “And we aren’t boyfriends.”

Harry’s good spirits fell, and he remembered why they were at odds in the first place. “It’s my fault.”

“Yeah, it is.” Malfoy was not going to go easy on him.

“I know I hurt you. But I can’t help but feel like there is something more upsetting you, and I’m so mad at myself for pushing you away because now I don’t know anything about what’s been going on in your life. You’re so hard to read, and you’ve been ignoring the hell out of me. I’ve got to tell you, if you’ve been wanting me to feel like a heel then its working. I wish you would give me some clue as to what to do, but I know I can’t just stand by any longer. So please, give me something.”

Malfoy was holding back from him, Harry could tell as much. Harry took a tentative step forward and another until he was close enough to touch if Harry reached out for him. He had not been this close to Malfoy since he punched him, and Harry had to remind himself he and Malfoy were in the middle of a row to keep himself from closing the distance. The air thrummed between them, tuned to everything they had shared, pulling them closer. Malfoy had to feel it too, but his face remained impassive. Harry wanted to reach out to Malfoy, just to feel he was there, but nothing about Malfoy said it was a good idea. Then Malfoy took a step forward, and Harry held his breath. Malfoy was avoiding Harry’s eyes as he reached out and brushed Harry’s hair to the side, pushing it back so it slid through his fingers. Without a word, he walked away.

Harry would take it.

Harry found Hermione and Ron in the Three Broomsticks. He ordered another round of butterbeers before sitting with them.

“We didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Ron said, “but your eye isn’t bruised, so I’d say that’s progress.”

Ron had taken to the news of Harry dating Malfoy better than expected which made Harry want to kick himself for getting in this situation with Malfoy to begin with. Ron had been glad to know Malfoy was not stealing his best friend away from him. He even found ways to be supportive, which may have been Hermione’s doing. Harry owed her a lot for all the help she had been. Hermione would not tell him what she and Malfoy talked about, and she would give no clues as to how he was doing. It felt like true suffering, but he handled it with aplomb. Hermione was helping him by being a friend to Malfoy when he needed one.

“Well, tell us how it went,” Hermione said.

“I found him at the Shrieking Shack and threw a snowball at him,” said Harry.

“You didn’t,” said Hermionie while Ron laughed. 

Harry finished the rest of his story. Ron had stopped paying attention to stare at Madam Rosmerta serving customers, but Hermione seemed pleased.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Hermione asked.

“I was thinking we could eat dinner together,” Harry said. “Is it too quick? He might be expecting you, and I can get over there before he leaves.”

“I think it’s a fine idea,” said Hermione.

So when they got back to the castle several hours later, Harry found Malfoy sitting in his new spot, far out of the way. He sat across from Malfoy.

“Potter. What are you doing here?” Malfoy asked. He turned to the Gryffindor table and spotted Hermione who waved cheerily at him. He turned back around in a huff and continued eating.

Harry piled food onto a plate. “How was your day today. I only saw you for a moment.” Malfoy scowled at him and made no other reply. Harry went on between bites, “My day was good. I got to see the guy I like at an old favorite spot of ours. Ron still thinks he can get with Madam Rosmerta.” He continued on with mundane details. He said every thought popping into his head, “Potions essay is done, thanks to Hermione, again. Went to the owlery for no reason. I made snow creatures with Ginny and Luna. I did a hungarian horntail, you know how I like them. Luna did a thestral, and Ginny made a miniature whomping willow. I’m not sure where Neville was. Must’ve been at the greenhouses if I had to guess.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be with you?” Malfoy snapped.

“I’m hoping one day, you’ll talk back, but yeah I can see it going this way for a while,” Harry said.

Malfoy slammed his fork down and pushed himself up. Harry put his hand over Malfoy’s and whispered, “Look, just don’t avoid me ok? I can’t take it.”

“If I’m avoiding you, then it’s what you deserve,” Malfoy said harshly.

Harry had no choice but to let him go, but Malfoy came back to add through gritted teeth, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” which took some of the sting out of his words.

The next day Malfoy did not speak to Harry, nor the day after. On the third day he said, “Get off my book.” Harry had been using it to prop himself. On the fourth day, Harry stole Malfoy’s ink bottle so he would have to ask for it back. On the fifth day he thought he had made Malfoy laugh with a good Slughorn expression, but it had been a sneeze. The following day was a bit of a backslide. Malfoy was in a temper and Harry had asked him why he was upset one too many times. Malfoy had snapped, “You get on my last bloody nerve is why!” Harry did not see Malfoy for the next two days as it was the weekend. He had pulled out the Marauder’s Map to see if he went to the library, but he never left the Slytherin dungeon as far as Harry could tell. Monday brought a new week and fresh attempts at getting Malfoy’s attention, but he was beginning to think he was not welcome.

“Do you want me to stop?” Harry asked.

“Stop what?” Malfoy asked.

“This, I dunno,” said Harry. “I feel like I’m just annoying you and not getting anywhere.”

“What gave you that impression?” Malfoy intoned.

“Right,” said Harry. “Well I’ll see you around. I’ve got a keeper practice with Ron.”

Harry left feeling unsure of himself. He thought he could wear Malfoy down, but it was clearly the wrong approach. It was time for some expert advice. He found Hermione in the common room later in the evening. He flopped into the armchair beside the fire, threw an arm over his eyes and thrust his legs out while she finished with whatever she was working on. It did not take her long to get curious.

“Is it really all so terrible?” asked Hermione gently.

Harry nodded. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Harry,” Hermione said. 

“Yes he does,” Harry said. “He wants me to leave him alone.”

“He wants to know you care about him, and he needs to believe things will be different if you get back together,” Hermione said.

Harry sat straighter. “How do I do it. Help me, Hermione.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Show him you think about him. Do things for him, little things that don’t matter much. Buy him things he likes. Tell him how you feel about him, Harry. Then when he’s softened up, make a romantic gesture. It should be something he’s not likely to ever forget.”

“Ugh, why didn’t I come to you sooner,” said Harry.

“Because making a fool out of yourself in front of him is part of it,” said Hermione. “You’re doing fine. He’s probably thinking about the stupid things you’ve done right now, but it’s time for you to step it up.”

“Yeah, thanks, Hermione,” Harry said, already making plans.

The next day went remarkably better. First Harry poured them both tea over breakfast and made Malfoy’s the way he liked it: black with one sugar. Then he carried Malfoy’s books to their Transfiguration class which had gotten him to say, “I can carry them myself.” It was worth hauling two loads of books for it. He adjusted his goggles for him in Herbology which meant he got to touch the back of Malfoy’s head. He pulled his chair out for him in Potions and cleaned his mess after the lesson. Over dinner he asked, “Potatoes?” to which Malfoy said, “Sure.” Harry scooped some onto his plate. Asking to study had been too much (he received a firm no), but overall, Harry was impressed with the results. Harry smiled through the rest of the week as he did everything he could think of for Malfoy. He had to admit, as he snuck to The Hogs Head so Malfoy could have some of Aberforth’s butterbeer with his dinner, he liked it.

With the Friday morning post came a box so large four owls were needed to carry it. Harry hurried to clear a spot. Every side of the box showed the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes logo. Malfoy eyed the box then Harry, who was pointedly refusing to speak.

“What is this, Potter?” Malfoy caved.

“I’m glad you asked. It’s a box from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” Harry said.

“Everyone can see it’s a Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes box,” Malfoy said. “What’s inside?”

Harry smiled mischievously. “I was Wheezes start-up investor. So when there’s surplus or new products to test,” he patted the box, “I get one of these. I specifically asked for what’s inside, and Georgie Boy came through. We shouldn’t open it here though.”

Malfoy was catching onto Harry. He was not going to be forthcoming about its contents. “So when will I find out what’s inside?”

Harry beamed. This was working out just as he had pictured it. He rummaged through his bag and threw a wad of silvery fabric at Draco. “Go to the North Tower at eleven o’clock tonight. I’ll be waiting.”

Harry watched Malfoy walk from one end of his room to the other on the Marauder’s Map. He had finally gotten to him and he was meeting him in an hour. If this did not work, he was not sure what would. Harry needed everything to go exactly to plan. He had given Malfoy his invisibility cloak which would make his journey to the North Tower easier. He was impatient and excited. His world was back on Malfoy’s axis, soon there would be no barriers between them. As ideas filled his head, blood filled his cock. He stopped to jerk off, wheedling down some time but not enough.

When he saw Malfoy leave the dungeons, he hurried to the North Tower with the large box. He got there with enough time to watch Malfoy climb from the main stairs.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry said.

Malfoy removed the cloak and tossed it to him. “How did you know I was here?”

Potter held out the Marauder’s Map. It was showing the North Tower and two dots, one labeled Harry Potter and the other Draco Malfoy. “I watched you come up. You were pacing for a while. Were you nervous?”

“I was curious,” Malfoy said.

“Open the box then.” Harry gestured to his feet where the box sat.

Malfoy broke the seal with his wand and when he pulled back the lid, he revealed an assortment of fireworks. There were catherine wheels and dragons but one on the top caught Malfoy’s eye. “Harry Potter Poppers?”

“Oh, yeah, I actually like those, try one out,” said Harry. “Point it out towards the sky.”

Malfoy did what he was told and pulled the string. A bolt of lightning shot fifty feet out and a clap of thunder shook the tower. “Whoa! What are all these?” He read some labels. “‘The Chosen One Comet.’ This one’s called ‘The Boy Who Lived: In Lights.”

“Oh, sending those is George’s idea of a joke,” said Harry. “He’s working out a line for end-of-the-war anniversary parties and he thinks using my likeness will sell. Do you want to set some of these off?”

Malfoy blanched. “The whole school will wake up.”

“If they’re asleep,” said Harry, shrugging. “If anyone comes in here, we have the invisibility cloak. George sent along some Sleepy Slurpees for Filch. He won’t be bothering us, and we’re far enough away from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers, so we should have plenty of time. Go on, I want to see.”

Much to Harry’s chagrin, Malfoy selected The Boy Who Lived: In Lights. He muttered “Incendio,” and out shot a good imitation of Harry’s face formed from individual balls of dazzling light. It sat in the sky and bellowed across the mountains Expelliarmus! At the same time the spell was written out below, and then it was erased so the large Potter head could bellow it next incantation. Expecto Patronum! A stag shot forth from the line of writing as the last letter formed. It pranced around before disappearing, then You’re finished, Tom!

“No more Potter fireworks,” Harry said. “What else is there?”

They set off the dragon which flew over their heads and down through the valley. Some whistled and banged while another lit the night sky as if it were day. One of Malfoy’s favorites changed shapes like a kaleidoscope in the sky. Then Harry handed him one of the smaller crackers.

Malfoy eyed Harry suspiciously before he said, “Incendio.” 

Out shot an oversized wand, and as they watched, it began to spell words in the air. Forgive me, Draco Malfoy? -HP

Malfoy’s jaw dropped. He turned to Harry who was more intent on watching Malfoy than the display. He had not known he was tense until Malfoy nodded to answer the question in the sky, and his shoulders relaxed. Harry did his best to hide his rising elation and handed him another cracker. This one spelled out, Draco Malfoy, will you be my boyfriend? -HP

“Potter, this is over the top,” said Malfoy.

Harry looked on expectantly. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Malfoy smiled wide and shook his head. “Yeah, Potter. I’ll be you boyfriend.”

With a smile to rival Malfoy’s, Harry handed him another cracker. When this one shot off he barely gave Malfoy time to read the message (Harry Potter is snogging Draco Malfoy) before he grabbed Malfoy’s head and pulled him into his arms.


	11. A Required Interlude

Potter said more to convince Draco they belonged together with his lips moving against his own than words could. The passion and determination coming from Potter burned his soul, and he desperately needed to feel closer to Potter. He clung to his shoulders, and Potter responded by deepening their kiss until he felt he would be consumed by the fire in his heart. Draco could see lights behind his eyelids as fireworks continued to crack above them. His back was pressed against the tower crenels, Potter was grinding into him, and he was only dimly aware of the sound of feet on the stairs, but Potter did not let him go. He did not try to break away, not even when voices were in the room with them. Minutes passed before either was satisfied with their reunion. They would begin to pull away only to return to one another in a scorching kiss.

Soon other, more primal desires began to take over. Draco could feel Potter’s long rod against his own thickening cock. He groaned into their kiss. “Potter, I don't want to do it like this. Come back to my dorm with me.”

Potter pulled back enough to look into his eyes. “We might not be able to walk together under this thing.”

It was only then Draco realized Potter had pulled the invisibility cloak over them. He was glad Potter had had the sense to do so. The box of fireworks was gone, evidence someone from the faculty had been there. They had probably thought whoever had set off the fireworks had abandoned the box to make their escape. 

“We can try,” said Draco.

Potter shook his head. “There’s no way McGonagall doesn’t suspect we set off those fireworks. She probably knows we aren’t in bed by now and has someone waiting for us. We can’t go back, but I have an idea.”

It took some maneuvering to get them both under the invisibility cloak. Potter was crouched over and plastered to his side. When they walked, he moved sideways and considerably slower. I didn’t help Draco to have Potter’s wandering hand on the front of his robes. Draco checked the map before each turn as Potter directed them to the seventh floor corridor. Draco knew where they were going. Both he and Potter had used the Room of Requirement in the past, and many students had used it to escape during the Battle of Hogwarts. After Potter made his request a door appeared. Inside was a small room with a bed big enough for two. There was a bathroom and a wardrobe with extra robes in their sizes. When they left in the morning, they would be fresh.

Draco and Potter rushed to undress and pull the covers over their heads. It had been freezing in the North Tower, and as warmth crept in, Draco shivered. Potter huddled close so they could use each other’s body heat to chase away the cold. From under the blanket, Draco could only make out the shape of Potter. He listened to his steady breathing and used it as his guide to cup Harry’s face with his palm.

“There’s something I’ve known all along, but I think I’m just now coming to terms with it,” said Draco. “You are insane, Potter.” Potter laughed out loud. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.”

“You deserve it,” said Potter. Draco began to protest, but Potter cut him off. “And you should get used to it because I’ll do it again.”

Draco swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully. He did not know what to say to Potter’s declaration, but he did know what he wanted to say. “I, uh,” he had to stop to clear his throat. “I had a bad Christmas.” And he told Potter about what had happened and more because a lot of what he said spoke to his entire life. Feelings of detachment and a bullying father had dominated his childhood. When he was done speaking, Potter was holding him close to his chest. He could feel the tightness in his muscles.

“You could have come to me,” said Potter. “I’m glad you had someone to turn to. I’ll have to send Pansy a thank you present. You know what she likes. But in the future, you can come to me wherever I am.”

Draco nodded into Potter’s chest and wrapped his top arm tighter around his waist. His heart beat wildly to know Potter cared enough about him to say these things.

They lay there quietly for a while then Potter said, “I should have been there for you. I could have come to the Ministry or met you at the Manor.”

“You couldn’t have,” Draco said. “Ancient magic protects the grounds. There’s a ward against intruders, and you’ve been marked as one since the end of our fourth year. Maybe even by our second year.”

“Can you take it down?” Potter asked.

“When the Manor is mine,” Draco replied. He kissed Potter’s chest. He was ready to be done with this conversation. He pushed his body fully along Potter’s. “Mm, you’re warm.”

Potter slid a hand down Draco’s back and under the band of his pants. He cupped his arse to hold him flush before sliding his hand over his hip. Draco lifted his hips for Potter so he could remove his pants, and then he did the same for Potter. When their bodies realigned both men gasped. They explored each others bodies unhindered and unhurried with both their lips and fingers. Draco’s head fell to Potter’s shoulder when Potter reached between them and grabbed his cock. Draco fumbled around for Potter and when he found him they worked each other so when they came it was on a soft, sweet breath. They drifted off to sleep warm and content and in each others arms.

Draco’s sleep was interrupted only once when Potter had shaken him awake to suck his cock. He had fallen back asleep almost immediately after he had orgasmed down Potter’s throat. He did not wake again until there was sunlight streaming through the window and into his eye. He did not want to move away from where his chest pressed to Potter’s back, but he rolled out of the light and breathed deep. 

“Why is there a window?” he complained. He was awake now, there was no helping it. Potter was softly snoring. Draco nudged his arse with a toe. “Potter. Wake up.”

Potter muttered, “Wazzah?” but he did not wake up.

He tried again with little difference. He squirmed his way to Potter. He bent low so his mouth was by Potter’s ear. He brought the lobe into his mouth and tonged it. “Wake up, Potter.” He rolled on top of Potter as he licked, bit and sucked on his neck and ear interspersed with pleas for him to rejoin the living. Something else woke up long before Potter’s eyes opened.

“Good, you’re up,” said Draco, pushing himself to straddle Potter’s hips.

“I was enjoying that,” Potter said. He grabbed Draco’s arms and tried to pull him back on top of him.

Draco resisited. “I’m hungry. I want to go get some breakfast.”

Potter groaned. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Draco and leaned on his chest. Potter’s muffled voice said, “I want to stay here with you.”

Draco thought he liked Potter’s idea far better, but his stomach rumbled so they both could hear. “I need food, Potter.”

“Then there’s no helping it. Kreacher, can you come here when you have a moment?” Potter asked. To Draco he said, “You better put something on.”

Draco had just gotten his underwear pulled on when there was a loud POP! An ugly house elf appeared and bowed to Harry until his pointed nose touched the floor. “Master requires Kreacher’s services?”

“Yeah, could you bring some food for Malfoy and me. Enough for the whole day,” said Potter.

“As Master wishes,” Kreacher said. He came back a moment later with a buffet of food.

Draco beelined to the table with a passing, “Thanks,” and began selecting waffles and sausage links. He grabbed a bowl of fruit as he walked back to the bed. Potter thanked Kreacher, telling him, “You’re services are valuable,” making Kreacher grumble and blush, before getting some food for himself. They ate cross-legged on the bed munching quietly in each other’s company. When they were done, Potter took their plates and bowls and set them aside. Then he stretched out, giving Draco full view of his lean taught form.

Potter caught Draco’s eyes and smiled. “Take those off,” he said, pointing to Draco’s boxer briefs.

Draco complied as Potter watched him in the morning light. “I want to make love to you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and now we’re together, I don’t think I can wait. I need to know what it’s like to be inside you.”

Draco’s mouth went dry at Potter’s words. His groin tingled and his mind wiped blank. All he could manage was a nod.

“I found this in the bedside table,” said Potter.

He tossed Draco a small bottle filled with clear liquid. The label proclaimed it as Madame Scintillate’s Sexual Solutions for the Experienced Witch and Wizard: No Prep Lubrication, apply as desired and enjoy zero wait time with your partner. Draco popped the top and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers. He went to his knees on the bed, and reaching between his legs, he slid three fingers into his hole with no resistance. He bit his lip.

“It works,” Draco said to a wide-eyed Potter. 

He moved his fingers in and out of his hole as he watched Potter. They were both breathing a little heavier. Potter rubbed the outside of his pants but everything else about him was focused on Draco. Potter was moving behind him, and Draco spread his legs a little wider, raised his arse a little higher so Potter could watch as he continued to move his fingers within. Potter’s hands were on him massaging his arse. Draco felt his pleasure begin to rise. It was too much to support himself with one arm. He slid down to rest his shoulders on the bed. The movement pushed his arse out towards Potter who groaned.

“Don’t stop fingering yourself, Malfoy,” Potter said.

Draco could not think of why he would until he felt Potter’s mouth join the fray. Draco shuddered and forgot what he was doing, now focused on the way Potter licked around his fingers. He was letting his hand drop, but Potter grabbed his wrist and encouraged Draco to continue what he was doing by guiding his hand in and out. Draco took over but with little finesse. The things Potter was doing left Draco feeling wobbly.

“Turn over,” Potter said. “I want to face you.”

Draco slid along the sheets. His bones felt like liquid. Potter grabbed his ankles and rested them on his shoulders. He applied more No Prep Lube to his cock and slid into Draco until his hips rested against Draco’s thighs. Draco’s mouth fell open and he choked on his next breath. His legs shook as Potter moved out and back in experimentally. Potter’s eyes were screwed shut.

“Look at me,” said Draco.

Their eyes locked and Draco began to get a sense of what Potter was feeling too. It was a heady sensation, and not for the first time since last night, he felt whole. Potter was thrusting into him with a focused effort, his control already threatening to break. Draco slid his legs down and around Potter’s waist. He used the leverage to thrust so Potter drove in deeper. Potter fell on top of Draco. He leaned in to kiss him, but Draco caught him by the hair. He did not want to lose eye contact. Potter thrust erratically, lost to his pleasure. Potter cupped Draco’s neck and face with one hand, and Draco turned his head enough to capture one of Potters fingers in his mouth. He sucked the long digit against his tongue. Potter’s hips stuttered. When he found his pace again it was harder and faster, and he moved his finger in and out of Draco’s mouth in time. Potter’s skin was flushed and it was rising against his olive complexion. He huffed with every thrust while Draco let out an unbroken plaintive moan. Draco’s hand found his cock and he stroked it with no other thought than to find his release. His face was so near to Potter’s all he could see were his blown out pupils. He knew Potter was getting close but he could not wait. His body tightened around Potter, then with a final cry he came. His legs shook with every rope of cum released from his cock, and his hole spasmed around Potter. Potter had sped up to encourage Draco on. He found his own orgasm as he pushed himself deep into Draco. Draco felt the hot liquid spread inside him with each strained thrust, once, twice, three and four times. Potter collapsed on top of Draco. His hips slowed for a minute, still inside Draco’s throbbing arse.

Neither Draco nor Potter said anything for some time while a dense fog cleared from their minds and they caught their breath. Potter chuckled from his position sprawled on top of Draco. Draco shoved at Potter’s shoulders.

“You’re heavy, mate.”

Potter pushed himself up enough to fall to the side. He reached over and patted Draco on the chest.

“It was good, right?” Potter asked.

Draco snorted. He had never heard such an understatement. Besides Potter, he had only had sex with three other men. His former quidditch captain, Marcus Flint, had left him feeling bruised. He had hooked up with Blaise Zabini a few times, but he had always topped. And Yaxley had found his way into Draco’s room every time he visited the Manor. It had been during the Dark Lord’s reign and had only served as a welcome distraction. Sex with Potter had been more than he had expected. He was blissed out.

Potter mistook his snort. “I thought it was decent.”

Draco rolled into Potter and intertwined their hands. He brought Potter’s up to his lips and kissed the back. “I’ve never had it so good.”

Potter beamed at him. Then he turned their hands over, exposing Draco’s forearm to the light. Draco tried to pull away.

“Don’t,” said Potter. “I’ve never gotten to look at one of these up close.”

“It’s shameful. I don’t look at it if I can help it,” Draco said, tugging his arm again.

Potter traced the lines of the snake and skull. “It’s beautiful, out of context.”

“It’s not,” Draco said with finality.

Potter took a good look at him and allowed Draco to extract his hand so he could wrap him up in his arms. He settled his cheek against Draco’s head. 

“Is it bad that I like how much you dislike your Dark Mark?” Potter asked.

“No,” said Draco.

“It lets me know, with zero doubt, that I can trust you. I chose a good boyfriend,” Potter said, “and I won’t bring it up again.”

Draco listened as Potter’s breathing evened out as he fell asleep. Draco was content to lie there tracing his fingers over the lines of Potter’s body. He leaned back a little so he could see Potter better. While he was so relaxed, Draco could appreciate how handsome his features were. He needed to get up to use the bathroom but for just a little while longer he watched Potter sleep.

Draco took a warm shower. The water felt like manna as it fell on his hot, tingling flesh. He stayed there longer than he normally would have as he replayed how he and Potter had moved together. He dried off and tied a towel around his hips. He munched on more food and pictured what it would be like to share a life with Potter. There would certainly be more sex, but there would also be the day to day of life, which was equally compelling. They could make plans together, and this above all excited Draco. The notion that he could include Potter in what he wanted from life ignited his soul.

When Potter finally woke up, Draco jumped on him again. This time he did all the work, riding Potter until he shattered underneath Draco. It was a long luxurious day of soaking in as much as they could of each other.


	12. Quidditch Quarrels

Harry was reluctant to leave Malfoy. The only reason he had done so was because Gryffindor team quidditch practice was in the evening. He walked into the locker room five minutes early. As team captain he should have been the first to arrive, but his entire team was waiting for him. Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peaks were returning beaters. Ritchie was shaping up to be a top beater, and Peaks was more lethal with a bat than he had ever been. Of course Ginny was on the team. She was already being scouted by the Holyhead Harpies and the Kenmare Kestrels. Her fellow chasers, Demelza Robins and Dean Thomas had returned as well and were both in top form. With Ron as keeper and Harry as seeker, they were the only house with an established team.

“Missed you last night, mate,” said Ron to Harry while Harry dressed. “We were wondering if you would make it. We all enjoyed the show by the way. I don’t think anyone from Gryffindor missed it. You know how Hermione says you have a saving people thing. I’d like to add to it. You can really get a crowd's attention. Sod the Aurors, you need to go into public speaking.”

“I’m in school for the Aurors, Ron,” Harry said.

“Public speaking on behalf of the Aurors!” Ron clapped.

“I’d rather raise an Acromantula,” said Harry as they walked onto the pitch.

Practice went as well as Harry could have hoped. He walked back to the school with Ginny and Ron on either side of him.

“So you’re seeing Malfoy, officially,” said Ginny. “Everyone’s heard about it by now. Does this mean you won’t be sitting with us anymore?”

Harry’s heart was beating harder than it had been when he was running drills. He did not understand why, there was nothing to be anxious about. All he could place it on had to do with his anticipation to see Malfoy. “I convinced him to join us, actually.”

Malfoy was there, waiting outside the Great Hall. He quirked a brow as Harry approached. He had not bothered to change out of his quidditch robes, and Malfoy was being openly appreciative. Ron and Ginny greeted Malfoy, and Harry grabbed his hand as they entered the Great Hall. Malfoy tried to keep his grin at bay. Despite the Hall being full, a silence fell. Their footfalls echoed across the chamber as every eye in the room watched Harry and Malfoy. Then the spell broke and whispers surrounded them. Any evidence of a grin was gone. Malfoy was wide eyed and petrified.

As they took their seats Ron had to laugh. “First time in the Harry Potter spotlight, eh? Don’t worry, it’s a second hand glow. It’s him they’re nutters for.”

Hermione squealed and threw her arms around Malfoy. He patted her arm. “When I told him to do something romantic, I had no idea he would land on a fireworks display. I should have though. He can be a bit…”

“Much,” Malfoy finished for her.

Hermione giggled and Ron was laughing again. 

“Alright, if your done,” said Harry.

Malfoy leaned over and kissed his cheek, “I used to find it annoying, but now I think it’s a bit endearing.”

Harry blushed and shoved potatoes in his mouth.

Malfoy and Harry spent every bit of their free time together, but there wasn’t much of it. Their studies ramped up for their upcoming N.E.W.T exams. Hermione had written detailed schedules for them so he knew exactly when he had time for Malfoy, his name adorned with a heart. Hermione duplicated her schedule for Malfoy as they were taking all of the same subjects, minus Arithmancy for Malfoy.

Ron balked. “But why do you take all of these classes? Hermione I get, but you?”

Malfoy shrugged. “You need to have broad knowledge to study the oldest forms of magic. And I’m a good student.”

Harry, Ron and Malfoy had even less time with quidditch practice, but the final match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was the weekend after next, and they needed to prepare. Afterwards they would have more free time. Harry and Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table so Malfoy would not overhear strategy talk. Then Malfoy realized Harry was listening to a similar conversation between his chasers and yelled at him until Harry rejoined the Gryffindors. It was difficult to not let the competitiveness come between Harry and Malfoy, but it seeped in to every conversation. For the most part it stayed civil. One would jab, and the other would parry, and then the round would be over. But more than once or twice it had escalated to the point where they could be heard through the halls. They knew so much about the other’s team, down to the player’s individual game stats, and the rivalry had lasted for so many years these rows could create an endless amount of steam. No one was willing to get between them, not even when wands were drawn, the heat was so intense. The sex afterwards was angry and incredible. It was enough to convince Harry there might be some good points about Slytherin. Their seeker anyway.

“Weather’s fair,” Ron said as they walked outside. “Visibility should be decent. I fancy this wind. It will help with dives.”

Harry was completely focused on quidditch. It was his favorite thing in the world, and he would be lying if he said winning did not matter. He was confident in his team. If Ginny scored fewer points than a seeker, Harry would eat his robes. His team was pumped, he roused them some more, then they took the field to square off with the Slytherins. Harry and Malfoy shook hands as captains of their teams, Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and fourteen players went off in different directions.

It was instantly competitive. Swirls of green and red fought for the quaffle. Harry shot up while Malfoy stayed low. Usually during a match, he kept an eye on his team and focused on finding the snitch. This time, he found he was also tuned to where Malfoy was. He could look over his shoulder and his eyes would find Malfoy. It was useful more than distracting. As he searched one area, Malfoy would search around another, and then two would be done. Unfortunately, Malfoy was using the same strategy. Luna Lovegood, who was announcing for this match noticed too.

“Oh, look at Harry Potter dancing with his boyfriend. It’s lovely.” She hummed a melody. “I hope they have another performance. It would be better for them to do it later and look for the snitch now. And Ginny has scored again. Go, Ginny!”

Malfoy and Harry continued to circle the pitch and one another. Harry was at one end of the field and Malfoy was at the other. They were both flying low. Then it was there, the snitch hovered between them. Malfoy saw it too and they shot forward. It was a head on race. If it were anyone else he might worry they would collide. But he knew they would roll in opposite directions. He reached out, saw Malfoy do the same. And… they were spinning. They had caught the snitch between their hands and the force caused them to helicopter off of their brooms. Luckily they did not fall far. They broke apart and the snitch bounced away, unmoving. It had been caught.

The Gryffindor locker room was euphoric. Ron hoisted Ginny onto his shoulder and was shouting, “That’s my sister!” It had been a good showing for the Wesleys. Ginny had scored a phenomenal 200 points and Ron had, for the second time in his career, saved every ball. As for the snitch, a flesh memory test was needed and the snitch had lit up in Malfoy’s hand. Harry was happy his team had won, and he celebrated along with them, but ire niggled at him. He was the last to leave so he could stew in his own disappointment. He felt better as he dressed.

Malfoy was waiting for him outside the Gryffindor locker rooms, He had a shoulder leaned against the wall, and he radiated glee. As Harry walked towards him, Malfoy held up the snitch and shook it for him to see.

“I don’t want to do this Malfoy,” Harry said as a way of warning.

“Oh, come on, you won the game,” Malfoy said.

Harry tried to get past Malfoy, but he held out his arm to stop him. Harry glowered at him. Malfoy’s smirk grew even wider.

“You hate that I won the seeker’s match. Well you can have the golden snitch if you like, Golden Boy. Go on take it.”

Harry made a grab for it, but Malfoy pulled his hand away. “Too slow again, Potter.”

“Shove it up your arse, Malfoy!” Harry snarled. “Or better yet,” he grabbed the snitch out of Malfoy’s hand, “I’ll do it for you.”

Malfoy’s eyes darkened over his leer, and Harry had to admit he looked absolutely lascivious. “What are you saying, Potter?”

“I’m saying get in the locker room, Malfoy.”

Malfoy pushed from the wall and dragged Harry after him into the Gryffindor locker room. He began to strip as soon as the door closed behind them, and Harry had to wonder if this had been Malfoy’s plan all along. Before he pulled off his pants he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out Madame Scintillate’s lube, and Harry had his answer. Harry kept his clothes on while Malfoy stood bare in front of him. Malfoy was not bothered by it. His pale skin was turning a soft shade of pink and his cock was already half erect. He was waiting to see what Harry would do.

Harry stepped into Malfoy’s space and brought his head down into a punishing kiss. Malfoy was following Harry’s lead. He let Harry set the pace and did not try to pull him in any deeper. He matched Harry in his intensity and met Harry’s touches with some of his own, but he never asked for more than what Harry gave. It was a rush to have Malfoy so willing to follow.

Harry pulled away. Malfoy looked at Harry expectantly. “Get on your hands and knees, Malfoy. I want to see your hole.” 

Malfoy groaned and did as he was told. A devilish glint in his eyes gave away how much he was liking this. Harry knelt beside Malfoy and rubbed his back and arms, down his legs, over his chest and through the hair leading from Malfoy’s navel. Then he reached for his cock and stroked him until he was fully hard. When he let go, Malfoy whimpered in protest.

“You’re so hot, Malfoy,” Harry said as he rubbed his hand over Malfoy’s arse. He pulled his cheeks apart. The soft pink pucker pulsed as Malfoy’s hips flexed. Harry passed his thumb over it then bent to take it in his mouth. He loved how Malfoy responded when he touched him there, but Harry did not linger. He grabbed the snitch and closed one of its wings. Then he covered it in lube and slid it into Malfoy. The other flared wing prevented it from going all the way inside of Malfoy.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“I like it,” said Malfoy. “It’s in a good spot.”

“Give me your hand,” Harry said.

When Malfoy did, he guided it to hold the exposed snitch.

“AHH!” Malfoy shouted. “I can feel it fluttering. It’s a bit ticklish, ooh ahh, yeah, alright. This feels good.” 

“How’s the size? I can make it bigger.” Harry said.

Malfoy’s head shot around. “Yeah, do it.”

Harry added more lube to be safe before he drew out his wand. “Don’t drop your hand.” He placed the tip of his wand where the wing met the gold ball and said, “Engorgio.” The snitch grew until it had doubled in size. Malfoy cried out and panted as he got used to the new intrusion, but he could not fully relax as the snitch fluttered against more resistance. Harry felt overheated watching Malfoy spread out before him. He pulled at his robes until they were off. He stood behind Malfoy and watched as he moved his hips against nothing and tugged at the snitch to get more friction. Harry needed some friction of his own.

“Sit up,” Harry said.

Malfoy used his free arm to push himself up. He watched Harry walk around him and cocked an eyebrow.

“Take it out and suck it,” Harry said.

Malfoy was all too eager to comply. He pulled down Harry’s pants enough to pull his cock out. He let Malfoy have his way and watched entranced as his lips slid along his length to meet his fist. He worked his hand and mouth over Harry. It was a sight Harry would never get over. Malfoy looked through heavy-lidded eyes. Harry began to move his hips, gently at first and then more urgently. The head of his cock popped into the back of Malfoy’s throat. He swallowed and the movement gripped his cock. He almost came. Malfoy must have been close too. His cock bobbed in the air, leaking precum. Malfoy released him after bringing Harry to the edge once more.

“I need you inside me,” he said. “Please, Potter.”

“Yeah, ok,” said Harry.

Malfoy got back on all fours. Harry used Reducto to return the snitch to normal size. Malfoy pulled it out while Harry lubed himself. Then he was sliding into Malfoy inch by inch. Malfoy’s hips undulated, bringing Harry in deeper as he found his rhythm. Harry watched the fluid movement of Malfoy seeking his pleasure. It was enough to drive him to insanity. Harry drove his cock into Malfoy and their body’s met again and again in a mad synchronicity. When they came it slammed into them without warning. In a hairsbreadth they went over the brink.

Harry did not want to lay on the locker room floor, so he started getting dressed. Malfoy was a bit longer to move. After he had gotten himself straight, Harry handed him the snitch. Malfoy took it and with a sly grin, slid it into his pocket.


	13. The Failed Occlumen

Draco was on cloud nine and it was Harry Potter who took him there. Potter was carrying his invisibility cloak with him and sneaking into the Slytherin dormitories most nights. Usually they only had time to sleep. It never failed to make something in his chest explode to lie with Potter, but when they did manage to find time for a romp in the sheets, the orgasms they gave each other had not lessened in intensity. If anything they were more evocative as they got to know each others bodies. Outside of their evenings together, Malfoy was somehow happier. He had never felt so good in his own skin. When he walked next to Potter his steps felt lighter. He could touch Potter when he wanted or greet him with a kiss. Potter would try to make him smile, and he would resist just so Potter would try harder. Nothing could bring him down.

The Easter holiday was approaching, and most fifth and seventh years would be staying at school to study. Every professor had quadrupled their workload, and they would need the full two weeks if they had any hope of completing it. It was how Draco intended to spend his time. Having Potter around as well would be a bonus. They were eating breakfast with Granger and Weasley when the owl post arrived. The eagle hawk his family owned landed in front of him. It lacked its usual large package and only carried a note. Malfoy removed it with shaking hands and opened it to find a few short sentences.

Draco,

Your father wants you to come home at the start of the Easter holiday. I’m sorry I did not include any treats. I could not find the time.

Looking forward to seeing you soon,

Mother

Draco’s nostrils flared with the effort to keep his emotions at bay. With just a few words, his happy little bubble popped. He had not heard from his mother for some time and had been too busy with school and Potter to pay it more than a passing thought. Now it stood at the forefront of his mind. It was hard to find anything positive from her letter which was far too brief, even for her. He wanted to crumple it up and toss it, to forget it had even came.

Of course Potter noticed the change in Draco so he handed the letter to him.

“But she doesn’t say why,” Potter said.

Granger had read the note over Potter’s shoulder and asked, “Could you just, not go?”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t put it past my father to show up at the school and drag me out himself. It’s better if go,” Draco said.

“If you stay, I’ll talk to him,” Potter said.

Draco felt his stomach swoop at Potter’s defence. He also knew Potter was thinking about the Manor’s wards and wanted to prevent his own helpless feelings. He said, “It’s fine, Potter. My dad isn’t going to do anything.”

Potter glared at him in obvious disbelief. Granger bit her lip but refrained from saying anything. Draco found himself reassuring them.

“Look, all I’ll be doing is studying, just like I would if I was here. My dad will have his say and then he won’t bother me. It will only be for two weeks.”

Potter looked less happy than he had at the start. “I don’t like it. And I don’t like your father. And what’s your mom doing that’s kept her from sending you packages? I used to watch those things fly in every other day, and I haven’t seen one since the quidditch final.”

“It’s nothing, Potter, like I said.”

Potter’s mouth opened to retort but Granger piped up. “I think you should listen to Harry. He has an intuition for these things, and I think it’s suspicious too. I mean, how often have they asked you to come home without giving you a reason why?”

Draco had to admit it had never happened except when they did not not want to directly speak about the Dark Lord.

“You better stay, mate,” said Ron, “ or else we’ll be coming to rescue you.”

“You’re overreacting. You don’t know my father like I do,” Draco said.

Potter propped his chin on Draco’s shoulder. “But I’ll miss you,” he said, having given in.

With the change in their plans, Draco and Potter made the most of their time together. Unfortunately they shared company with their school books. They always studied in Draco’s dorm room, just in case. Potter was falling behind on Potions and Transfiguration and he needed an Exceeds Expectations in all of his courses if he wanted to enter the Auror’s office. Malfoy was tutoring him on the subjects, and he began to appreciate how poor of a student Harry was.

“Can you focus? I can’t imagine you tried to suck Snape’s cock like this when you were taking remedial potions,” Malfoy said.

Potter laughed. “I never took remedial potions.”

“Yeah you did, I walked in on one of your lessons,” Draco said.

“My last lesson,” Potter said. His face had darkened but then he went on and the moment passed. “Those were Occlumency lessons. I was supposed to learn to block out Voldemort.”

“But you’re a terrible Occlumen,” Draco said.

“It’s because I didn’t learn it, did I? And how do you know I’m a terrible Occlumen?”

Draco sniggered. “Come on. How often do I make you look at me while we have sex? It’s not because I’ve got a bizarre fascination with green eyes.”

“You’ve been reading my mind,” Potter said

“It’s a little more complex,” said Draco. “Anyway, how often have you pulled out your map and watched me?”

“I haven’t had to do it for a long time now,” said Potter before he caught his words.

Draco raised a brow. Then he said, “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s hot to watch.”

“What do you see?” asked Potter.

Draco mulled it over. It was difficult to explain because in those moments, he was not glimpsing full memories. Instead he saw impressions of emotions and sometimes odd associations. He said, “Mostly I just see me, but I also feel everything twice, first my physical and emotional response and second, the impression of how you’re feeling.”

“And how do I feel about you?” Potter asked.

Draco did not know how to answer because he had not named the feeling himself. So he said, “The same way I feel about you.”

“Yeah? I like that. And do you feel like putting all of these books to the side and taking me to bed?” Potter asked in a low voice so Draco leaned forward to hear.

“You need to study,” Draco said feebly.

“I’ll have all the time I can handle next week. Tonight I want to do something worth remembering,” Potter said.

Potter cast Muffliato. The spell caused a buzzing in the ears of anyone who might overhear, and they used it regularly. Potter led Draco to the bed and pulled his robes off for him. He threw them to the side and his own quickly followed. Potter stretched back on the bed with his hands tucked behind his head.His cock laid heavily on his thigh. Draco crawled up the bed until he was hovering over Potter.

“What am I thinking about?” Potter asked.

It was a bit ridiculous to tell someone their thoughts back to them, but Draco said, “You’re thinking you want me to do all the work.”

A smile sprung on Potter’s face. “You are good at this.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Then he captured Potter’s mouth before he ruined the moment. Draco ground his hips down into Potter. Sliding his cock along Potter until he could feel his hot rod digging into his abdomen. He rose to look at Potter, knowing he must be getting close to the end of his patience and confirming it in his eyes.

“What is it? Why are you smiling? What do you see?” asked Potter. “Please just tell me this one time what it’s like, and I’ll never ask again.”

“I can see you don’t like waiting,” Draco said as a delicious tingle went through his cock. He continued his slow grind. “You’re so ready to take over, but do not try it. You wanted this, remember that.”

“Malfoy, you’re going to drive me mad,” Potter said.

“It’s the idea,” said Draco, “to use your opponents thoughts against them.” Potter was thinking the ropes they had used once in a while would be useful. “I’m not going to use the ropes. You’ll have to lie there and take it.”

“I’m taking it,” said Potter. “I want more.”

“Get the lube,” Draco said. Potter rushed to do it. Draco put it on his fingers and bent over Potter, he worked his fingers into his hole. “You want to see, but you can’t. It’s hot, so hot and you’re so close. But you won’t do anything. Just watch me, Potter.”

Draco crooked his fingers and gasped. He worked himself with a few hard strokes then slowed again. His mouth fell open as his breath began to quicken. The veins in Potters neck stood out against the flush of his skin. Draco licked along the pulsing line. Their chests touched as Draco leaned in to take Potters ear into his mouth. He sucked gently on Potter’s neck before rising up again. Potter’s eyes were screwed shut and he was hardly breathing.

“Potter, look at me,” Draco said. Potter did so, and Draco could see. “Oh, yeah, you’re nearly there.”

“What do you mean?” Potter asked.

Draco removed his fingers and grabbed Potter’s long cock. “There’s a point when the most primal part of your brain overtakes your conscious thought. It’s like a blazing white fire. It engulfs your being and focuses on sexual desire. Only a few things break into your awareness afterwards, and they are sharp in contrast.” Draco spoke brokenly, gasping between words. By the time he was done speaking, Potter was a goner.

Draco was ready too. He held Potter’s cock to his hole and slowly bore down. Potter grabbed him by the hips, but his hands did not ask him to move any more quickly. Without more lube, it was hard to push past his ring of muscle, but Draco liked this more. The low burn let him know Potter was inside of him. Then he was inching down over his length. He had to rise up a few times before he was seated on Potter.

“You’re tight,” Potter said. Potter’s hands spasmed on Draco’s hips as Draco began to move. “I love when you ride me. Come on, Draco, give it to me.”

Draco laughed. Potter was so desperate, and it turned him on. He rose and fell on his cock but not enough for Potter. The need for more friction danced across his eyes. He was not just trying to torture Potter, he liked to feel every inch of Potter’s cock slide past his hole, but soon enough he needed more too. He sat up straight and repositioned so his feet were on the bed. With his hands supported on Potter’s chest, he rolled his hips in earnest. Fire shot in Potter’s eyes.

“You like this. It’s what you wanted to feel.” Draco said. “Grab my cock.”

Potter took Draco in his hand. As Draco moved he pushed into Potter’s tight grip. He watched Potter, judging how close he was. “Do you want to cum, Potter?”

“You tell me,” Potter said.

“I think you’re on the edge. Just a little push and…” Draco redoubled his speed and Potter strained with the increased pleasure. Draco reached behind him, tugged on Potters sac, and it was all Potter could handle. Unrestrained from thoughts, he pumped up and into Draco with a delicious and unrelenting force. Potter threw his head back as his orgasm hit him, and Draco’s own orgasm followed on its heels.

Draco said, “You think I’m too good at making you cum.”

“Get over yourself, Malfoy,” Potter said, grinning. Potter pulled him close, and Draco’s heart thrummed.

The remainder of their time together was too short. Potter walked Draco to the train station. With a promise to write, Draco boarded and sat alone. Somehow this was lonelier than the start of the year journey. Draco disembarked with the other students. Only his mother waited for him, and they greeted each other as they had for the Christmas break.

“You’re father is waiting for you,” she said, and without further explanation, they apparated to the Manor.

His father waited for him in the drawing room, and Draco was alarmed to see Yaxley was there as well. He approached with hesitance.

“Hello, father,” he said.

“Draco, it’s good to see you,” his father said. “I’m glad you came home. I have to be off in a minute, so I’ll get straight to it. I’ve decided you won’t be returning to Hogwarts for your final term. You’ll study here. Yaxley has been good enough to offer his services as your tutor.”

Draco felt like his father had hit him with a stunning spell.


	14. Auror’s Training

The two weeks went by, and at the end of them, Ron and Hermione were almost as glad for Malfoy’s return as Harry was. Harry had been sullen. His mood seeped through every room, and he was short with everyone. His friends simply left him out of conversations, which suited Harry. Luna had put a hand on his shoulder and said, “You’re a bit obsessed and it’s beginning to change how you look. It’s not healthy to be so concerned with one person.”

But Harry could not stop worrying because Malfoy had not written him once. He had expected one the day after Malfoy returned home but tried not to be disappointed when he had not received an owl with the morning post. After three days went by and he had not heard anything, he began to speculate.

“Oh, Harry just because your uncle barred you in your room one summer does not mean Lucius is doing the same to Malfoy,” Hermione reasoned.

“Are you defending Lucius Malfoy!” Harry yelled.

“No, I wouldn’t and you know it,” Hermione said.

“Just wait until the start of term to obscura rage, mate,” said Ron.

Now it was here and Harry was no less anxious. He watched the students come up from Hogsmeade with no sign of the familiar fair hair. Harry marched off straight to Slughorn’s office. As Malfoy’s head of house, he should know what had happened.

“Harry, m’boy, it’s so good to see you. What brings you here? Fancy a cuppa?” Slughorn greeted him with a genial expression.

“No, thank you, Professor,” Harry said. “Draco Malfoy didn’t return with the other students.”

“Ah, yes, I know. The Headmistress informed me this morning,” Slughorn said. “Such a shame he isn’t returning. I was beginning to see the good in him. I mean, dear boy, if you think so much of him there’s bound to be something there, and he is quite bright. I normally don’t tussle with Death Eaters, reformed or not.”

“Well is he ok? Why isn’t he back?” Harry was at the edge of his nerve.

“The Headmistress said he would be finishing his studies at Malfoy Manor. They hired a tutor.”

Harry saw red, such was his fury. “Thank you, professor. I’ve got to run.”

He knew this was Lucius’s doing. His father had lured Malfoy away and convinced him to stay. He may as well have said he forbade them from seeing each other. And there was no way of knowing how far Lucius would take it to prevent Malfoy from seeing him. Well, Harry would not stand for it. The next person he found was Ron. He and Hermione were studying in the library.

“Harry, is everything all right?” Hermione asked.

“He didn’t come back. His father is keeping us apart on purpose,” Harry said. “Can I borrow Pigwidgeon, Ron? I’m going to send him a letter.”

“Yeah, you can borrow Pig,” Ron said.

Hermione and Ron shared a look then packed their bags. They were not far behind Harry who was already running for the owlery. Hermione gave him ink and parchment while Ron fed Pig owl pellets. Harry could not bring himself to buy another owl. It felt too much like replacing Hedwig and he could not do it. She had been too important and more than a pet.

He scribbled on the parchment.

Dear Malfoy,

I’ve just found out from Slughorn you aren’t coming back. If I don’t hear from you by the end of the week, I’m finding you.

Harry

They tied the note to Pig’s leg. “I want you to take this to Draco Malfoy. Come back with a reply tomorrow, and I’ll feed you as many owl treats as you can handle.”

They watched Pigwidgeon fly away until he was a speck rising and falling in the sky.

Harry felt sick. He had said one week because of his classes, but he doubted he would hold himself to waiting that long. He drummed his fingers, his leg bounced, and he was already planning his next steps. 

Less than two days later Pigwidgeon found Ron in their Charms class. He was back with no note, but at least Harry knew his letter had been delivered. Beyond that, there was no way for Harry to focus now without being sure Malfoy was safe. Harry gave Pig owl treats for being so fast.

“It’s a manor, so there are probably lots of fireplaces including in Malfoy’s room, right?” He had a floo idea taking ahold of him.

“It’s worth a try,” said Ron. “But this time lets ask a professor to use their fire. Why not Slughorn. He likes you.”

So Harry asked, and Slughorn relented. He allowed them ten minutes. Harry moved to kneel in front of the fireplace. He threw some floo powder into the fire and the flames burned green. He said, “Malfoy Manor, Draco’s room.”

After the odd sensation of his head spinning he saw a spartan room. Nothing adorned the walls, but the few pieces of furniture were richly made and gave the impression of a duke’s son living here. But there was no Malfoy. He pulled his head back.

“He’s not there,” said Harry.

“Then let’s try again later,” said Hermione.

“I want to try one more,” Harry said. Before Hermione could reply he said, “Malfoy Manor, the library.”

There he was with his head down, but he was not alone. Yaxley was there with a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. And Lucius. He saw Harry first.

“Potter!” Lucius spat.

Draco’s head shot up at the mention of his name and rolled his eyes when he saw what his father was talking about. His expression was so familiar to Harry he had to smile. He looked good, better than anything Harry had been imagining. So why hadn’t he reached out?

Harry ignored Lucius. “Are you ok?” He asked Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded. “Yeah, Potter, I’m fine. And I would have been alone in my room if you had just waited a few more hours.”

This may have been what Hermione was trying to point out. It was too late now. “Why haven’t you written to me?”

“The family owl is busy with my father’s letters. I haven’t had a chance,” Malfoy said.

“But I sent you a letter with Ron’s owl,” Harry said.

This was news to Malfoy. He asked his father, “You’ve been keeping mail from me?”

“It was me,” said Yaxley. “Thought it was best for your studies.”

Malfoy looked at Yaxley with disgust and slid to the ground to kneel in front of Harry. “You’ve been worried, huh?”

“Out of my mind with it,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry. I should have tried harder to contact you, but I haven’t had many moments alone,” Malfoy said. Harry’s eyes shot to Yaxley, and Malfoy noticed. “Nothing like that, Potter.”

“Enough of this,” Lucius said. He pushed Malfoy to the side, catching him unawares. Malfoy had to put his arms out to catch himself. Lucius moved in front of the fire, placed a foot on Harry’s head and kicked so Harry fell backwards into Slughorn’s office.

“Harry! What happened?” Hermione rushed forward to help him up.

“He’s fine. Malfoy’s fine. Lucius is a git.” Harry rubbed his forehead. “You won’t believe this. His tutor is Yaxley.”

“But the ministry is looking for him!” Hermione said. “You should tell them.”

“I will, but he’ll be gone before anyone gets there,” Harry said. “Unless we go right now. We don’t have any authority but we can stall for time. I wouldn’t mind having a word with Lucius face to face. And then we can bring Malfoy back.”

“It’ll be good practice for the Aurors,” Ron said. “He can be our first get.”

“There’s just one problem,” Hermione said. “We don’t know where Malfoy Manor is.”

“How would I find Malfoy Manor?” asked Harry.

“There would be records at the Ministry, but witches and wizards don’t have addresses like Muggles do. It would only list the area, and from what Malfoy says, their property is sizable. It would be impossible to find,” she said.

“What if we use the school thestrals? They got us to the Ministry,” Harry said.

“Brilliant, mate,” Ron said.

They hurried out, thanking Slughorn on their way. Ron ran to the owlery to write a letter to Percy. He would take the proper action to make sure Ministry officials got to Malfoy Manor. It was the middle of the day, so no one would try to stop Harry and Hermione from leaving the castle. Once on the grounds, they pretended they were using their free period to visit Hagrid. His hut was on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the thestrals would be familiar enough with the area to approach. Hagrid usually fed them around here.

“They’re attracted to the scent of blood,” said Hermione. “We were covered in it last time.”

Harry ran into Hagrid’s hut and grabbed a dragon steak off the table. He would buy him a new one when they got back. He did not plan on being long. By the time the thestrals appeared cautiously, Ron had caught up to them.

“They are lovely,” said Hermione with a tear in her eye. All of the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts had seen and processed death, making the magical horse-like creatures visible. Hermione had once wished to see them, and Harry could tell she was remembering it too.

They each mounted a thestral and Harry said, “We’d like to go to Malfoy Manor.”

The thestrals rose into the air. It felt like more time had passed than it had when the thestrals landed outside a pair of impressive gates.

“I don’t think we can get through,” said Ron.

Harry had used the ride to think about this. Malfoy had warned him about the wards, but he had also said it was an ancient magic. And Dumbledore had told him he had access to some of its power. He wondered if it would work now.

Harry decidedly did not look at Hermione and Ron as he said, “I’m here to see Draco Malfoy. He’s my boyfriend, and I love him.”

Nothing changed, but he took a tentative step forward. The gates let him pass. Hermione walked through too, he noticed, without declaring her love for Malfoy. Maybe he had not needed to say it, but Hermione was pleased.

“It was a clever plan, Harry,” she said.

“Right,” said Ron, “seeing as I don’t love Malfoy, and my family are blood traitors, I’ll stay here with the thestrals and catch the ministry up on the details when they arrive.”

Harry and Hermione rushed along the hedge-lined path and the Manor came into view. It was just as imposing as it was the first time Harry had been here, but he did not slow down. He pulled his wand out, ready to force the doors open, but Hermione grabbed her arm.

“We should knock,” Hermione said.

“And give Yaxley the chance to apparate?”

Hermione said, “You’ll catch him, if not today then on another, but there is a way of doing things. Decorum is just as important to wizards, and we should follow it.”

“It’s not what Mad-Eye would have done, and he was one of the best Aurors the ministry ever had.”

Hermione was not listening. She was knocking on the door and footsteps were drawing near. Narcissa opened the door.

She gasped, “You! How did you...?”

She tried to shut the door, but Harry put out a hand. “We’d like to talk to Malfoy.”

Narcissa darted her eyes around. “I can’t let you.”

Harry was done with courtesy. “If you don’t take us to him, I’ll force my way through.”

Narcissa took him at his word, and she opened the door for him. “He’s in the library. This way.” She led them slowly, her heels clicking on the floor. She opened the set of double doors enough to stick her head through. “Lucius, the Potter boy is here.”

Harry knew Yaxley would apparate, he pushed his way inside, drew his wand and pointing at the burly man, he said, “Patrificus Totalis!”

The man fell where he stood.

Harry lowered his wand, but he did not put it away. He did not trust Lucius.

“Why are you in my home? How are you in my home?” Lucius spat. “You push my wife, attack my guest. Explain yourself.”

“I’ll be quick because I expect the Ministry to arrive for your guest, and I want to have my say,” Harry said. “You can’t keep Malfoy and I apart.”

“Potter, I’m fine. This wasn’t necessary,” Malfoy said.

“It isn’t fine. I’m not going to let you sit out here all alone,” Harry said.

“It’s only for three months,” Malfoy said. “I would have been back for N.E.W.Ts.”

Yeah,” Harry said. “And then it would have been the next thing. A job taking you away or one with long hours. No, I want this cleared up now so it’s never an issue again.” He turned back to Lucius. “I’m dating your son. I won’t stand for interfering. You can’t punish him for the decisions he makes for himself by keeping him here. I see the games your playing at, bringing Yaxley around and keeping your owl busy. It ends now. Do you see how serious I am? I came here to make it clear to you. Are you following me or do I need to start on the threats?”

Lucius’s lips barely moved. “You have some audacity to show up here uninvited. But as always, you leave little choice in the matter. Yes, Potter, I understand you.”

“Good, then understand this too. I know why Draco is afraid to stand up to you. I know you’ve bullied him his entire life. He’s worked hard to make you proud. If you don’t support him in everything he does, we will have another one of these chats and it won’t be in good company. And just one more thing. I’ll be watching you closely for a toe out of line. I’ll put you back in Azkaban as many times as you weasel out. It’s not my freedom at stake so you consider it and be careful moving forward.”

“I thought you weren’t threatening me,” Lucius said.

Harry shrugged. Without another word he turned away from Lucius and made his way towards Malfoy. 

Malfoy said, “I can’t believe you, Potter,” and he took Harry into his arms. 

“Look at all of these books,” Hermione said wide-eyed with a stack under her chin.


	15. Amortentia

The ministry arrived later in the afternoon. They took their statements and shook Potter’s hand. Then they had bound Yaxley and his father, who was insisting, “I was forced, a hostage in my own home,” and apparated. It had been quick and business like. His mother had left for another room in the house. Draco knew it hurt her a little more every time his father went to prison, and she was not willing to show her emotion in front of anyone. He was left with Potter, Granger and Weasley in the library.

Granger was pulling scrolls and tomes from the shelves. “Is this where my Christmas present came from? I like these, if you need any ideas.”

“You aren’t taking any of those out of the library. They are the Malfoy family’s personal writings. The books you want to look through are upstairs. Those have been bought over the years as collectables.”

Granger hurried off before Draco finished speaking.

Weasley said, “We’re missing all of our classes, and Hermione doesn’t care. Let’s bring her back here. I wouldn’t mind skiving off more.”

“George will be glad to know he’s made an impression,” Potter said, then to Draco, “You’ll be coming back with us, won’t you? If you want to stay with your mother, I understand.”

Potter was being gracious, but it was a pathetic attempt. Draco did not need to be a Ligillimens to know Potter would not be happy unless Draco returned to Hogwarts. He put Potter out of his misery. “If the headmistress will have me.”

Potter’s whole demeanor relaxed. “Of course she will. You’re the best student.”

Granger shouted from above, “I heard what you said. Don’t think I didn’t, Harry Potter.”

“It’s only because I prefer his study methods,” Potter said. His grin was wicked.

Draco decided to write a letter to McGonagall asking to return, but he would arrive with Potter before he could get a reply. He rode on the back of the Thestral with his arms around Potter. It was a new form of flying for him. He wasn’t like Potter who had ridden a phoenix, a centaur, a Hippogriff, and a bloody dragon. He laughed. Potter could teach him a thing or two.

After they landed, Draco and Potter walked hand in hand through the grounds. Granger and Weasley were as carefree as they were, and so it slipped their minds there had been any rule breaking. McGonagall waited for them at the top of the stairs.

“Mr. Potter, Mr.. Weasley, and Ms. Granger! My office, now!” McGonagall scolded them. “And welcome back Mr. Malfoy. Your things should still be in your room. And do try not to persuade these three into anymore trouble, or I will have to take points from Slytherin.”

She marched off, and The Golden Trio followed after her. He thought they might have done this a time or two before. None of them looked overly concerned. Potter looked back and winked. 

Classes were almost done for the day, so there was no point in returning to his studies today. Draco walked aimlessly through the castle, his thoughts wandering towards his rescue. He was exasperated at the hero Potter, but he also had to admit the receiving end was nice enough. He was not thrilled with his father going back to Azkaban, but Potter had made good points.There was one thing unclear, and Potter had been avoiding it. How had he gotten in? The wards were against anyone who meant them harm in general, but a ward had been used specifically with Potter’s name. He had not been helpless and restrained, another way to enter the Manor unaffected by the wards. How had he done it? He went over the history of the Manor and remembered a story about his Aunt Andromeda who was intending to marry a Muggle. She was kept at the Manor for a time, and wards were put up against the Muggle, but he had passed as well. As it dawned on him, he formed a plan to put it to the test. He thought he still had some Wheezes order forms in his trunk from when he had kept a supply of Peruvian Instant Darkness.

He ordered the small vial for next day delivery. It came in a box with the WWW logo. He slid it into his pocket without glancing up. He could feel Potter’s stare.

“Why are you smiling? It was about what’s in the box.” Potter said.

“You answered your own question,” Draco said.

“Give me a hint about what it is,” Potter said.

Draco shook his head. Potter gave up his questioning, and with any luck, he would forget about it entirely. 

Potter, Granger, and Weasley had earned a detention for leaving the school grounds. Potter had asked if Draco wanted to use the invisibility cloak for a repeat of Draco’s detention. Draco pointed out that while he had been sitting in one place to clean cauldrons whereas Potter would be weeding the greenhouses, making it more difficult to hook up under Professor Sprout’s watchful eye.

“I’ll see if I can switch to writing lines,” Potter said.

It was never going to happen, so Draco spent his second night back at Hogwarts without Potter. When he got to his room, he opened the box Potter had given him. There was one extra space. He gently pushed the small bottle into the black velvet slot and closed the lid. Nothing was more precious to him. He had moved the box from the bedside table to a compartment in his trunk and would bring it back out at the right time.

Draco had only missed a few days, but he had some serious catching up to do. Thankfully, Granger had taken such thorough notes he was at least as versed on the subject matter as Potter. After Potter’s comment in the Malfoy library, he and Granger were suddenly competitors. They were both studying every spare moment, and he was sure he could beat her in at least one of the subjects. Potter was better than both of them at Defense Against the Dark Arts, so even if he beat her, the victory would not be the same. They were level with each other in Potions, and she had the edge in Charms. Flitwick had been grading him more harshly since their incident. He had tried to apologize with a box of chocolate frogs, but he still docked papers for little errors. He thought his best shot would be in Ancient Runes. He had access to a lot of the texts mentioned in their studies, and he had been reading them ever since he was able to understand what the etchings represented. He had been able to bring a few scrolls with him on his return to Hogwarts, a fact Granger remained ignorant of.

Potter sighed his way through most of their study time. When asked about it, he said, “I’m just glad to have you here. Exams are the worst.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Potter was itching to say something. “Spit it out, Potter.”

“It’s Slughorn. I’ve avoided most of his parties this year. I let all of the holiday parties go. It’s just not what I like to do. So I’ve got to go to the end of term party. Maybe if you were my date it would be tolerable,” Potter said.

“Why don’t you ask me then?”

“Will you go to this party with me?” Potter asked.

“Yeah, alright,” Draco said. He leaned across the table and kissed Potter.

It was a rare moment for Draco to enjoy kissing Potter. This one threatened to distract them entirely, but seeing as they were in the library and not Draco’s room, he forced their lips apart. When the library closed, he dragged Potter after him. 

“When we get to my room, we have to study more,” Draco said.

They did study more, to their credit. They only had time for a quick yank before they passed out, books still strewn on the bed. A candle burning on the bedside table flickered on their relaxed and smiling faces before it went out.

And so it went for three months until finally, there on the common room announcement board was the exam schedule.

Potter, who was under the invisibility cloak whistled. “This schedule is worse than the O.W.Ls. It lasts three weeks. If I make it, it’ll be a miracle.”

It was true. They were sitting longer practicals and there was little time between them to study for the next. In this moment he wished he had not been an overachiever. Potter slept in his own bed because Draco was falling asleep in the common room every night. The exams began and it was a blur. Draco moved from one exam to one pile of notes to the next exam and so on. He didn’t have time to think about what anybody else was doing. A few people collapsed or had a nervous breakdown, so he knew he was not the only student at their breaking point. When it was over, Draco forgot what it was he had done. Even Granger was too exhausted to go over exam questions and sat with a cold rag over her eyes while Weasley ceremoniously burned all of his study materials.

There were a few remaining days before the end of term, and Draco intended to be with Potter for all of them. The first order of business was making love. They tried to enjoy this moment, but Draco came as if it was his first time. The orgasm shot through him like a nonverbal incantation, surprising, intense, and over before it began.

“We can try that one again as soon as I’m ready,” Draco said.

“No we can’t,” said Potter. “We have to go to Slughorn’s party. It starts soon.”

Draco had forgotten. “Are you sure we can’t skip it. I don’t want to leave this bed.”

“I warned you about this. No, we can’t skip it. I’ve got to go, and I’m making you go with me,” Potter said.

So they got ready. Draco wore his green dress robes while Potter put on a similar set in scarlet. Potter was careful when positioning the stag pendant over his robes; in comparison, his hat stuck out at an odd angle over his messy hair, but Draco had to stop and admire how endearing he was. Draco sat his own hat on his head so that it stood tall, and they left. Potter wasn’t bothering with the invisibility cloak. He said there was nothing they could do now that he was no longer a student at Hogwarts, but nobody took notice of Harry Potter in the Slytherin common room. They were so used to seeing Draco with him, that the setting did not seem odd.

It was not far to Slughorn’s party which was held in his classroom. The desks had been replaced by festive decor and a table of food. The floor was open so that guests could mingle. There were more people than Draco expected, but somehow Slughorn spotted them before they made it three steps into the room.

“Harry, my boy!” Slughorn slapped Potter on the back. “And you have brought a guest.” Slughorn attempted a smile for Draco.

“Hello, professor,” Potter said. “It’s a good party you have. I’m glad we could make it.”

Draco rolled his eyes, and Slughorn had a similar idea. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. I was young once too. I know there are places you would prefer to be other things you’d rather be doing. But I thank you for coming to my get together nonetheless, perhaps all the more.” He chuckled. “So it’s off to the aurors office with you?”

“If I have the proper grades,” Potter reminded him.

“Ah, I have it on good authority that your grades are a formality,” Slughorn said. “Is it true that you were responsible for the capture of Yaxley?”

“Yes, sir,” Potter said.

“I taught that boy,” said Slughorn. “He was never very bright at potion making.”

“That’s funny, Professor, because he was the one tutoring Malfoy at the Manor,” said Potter.

Slughorn said, “I imagine that you would have been better off teaching yourself the material. It was good that you decided to finish your studies at Hogwarts.”

“It was all Potter’s doing, sir,” Draco said. “He arrested my tutor and carried me away from my lonely tower.”

Slughorn kept them in conversation for a while and introduced them to a few of his old students before encouraging them to continue to mingle. Granger arrived with the other Gryffindors, including her fiance. The twin, George was his name, was staying in Hogsmeade to check on his Zonko’s property. He had planned the trip to coincide with the end of Granger’s exams, as he put it, “to make it worth his time.” If he and Potter had difficulty finding time for each other, then he imagined Granger and George had not had much contact since Easter. They seemed just as anxious to leave as he felt.

“Have you had a chance to use the potion you ordered?” George asked.

“How did you know about that?” Draco asked.

“When my adopted little brother’s boyfriend sends an order, I make a point to fill it myself,” George said. “Think of it as personal care.”

“And invasive,” Draco said. “No, I haven’t had a chance to use it.”

Potter was listening to them as if they might drop clues for what they were talking about. Draco thought it was good for him, and George laughed.

The party picked up, and they ate at some finger foods. Luna came with flyers for her lost or stolen things. One of the Wicked Sisters played a few tunes, and a wizard performed a few lines of poetry. Draco hates every minute of it.

“It’s time for us to go,” George said, throwing an arm around Granger. “It was good to see the old castle, so on and so forth.”

Draco and Potter were right behind them. Potter did not wait for the dormitory door to close before he was questioning Draco. Draco responded by retrieving the box of vials and handed it to Potter.

“You want to use these?” Potter asked.

“I thought we could, but I added one,” Draco said.

Potter opened the box and pulled out the pearly liquid. He unstoppered it and wafted it into his face.

“What’s it smell like?” Draco asked.

“Treacle tart, wood and mint, and something...flowery,” Potter said. “It reminds me of the first time you brought me here. This is Amortentia. What’s it smell like to you?”

Draco leaned forward, but all he could smell was Potter. He took another wiff and realized, “It smells like you.”

“Isn’t this dangerous?” Potter asked.

“It can be,” Draco said, “If it isn’t used properly. Most people get the wrong idea and think it can replace love, but if it’s already there for equal partners, then it can enhance the experience.” Potter was still, and Draco had to laugh. “You haven’t thought about us in such plain terms, have you, Potter?”

“I have actually,” said Potter in a low voice. “That was how I was able to get past the Manor’s wards against me. I declared my love for you.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Draco.

“Does this mean you love me too?” Potter asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Draco said, leaning in to press their lips together. “Are you ready for some fun?”


	16. Harry Does Draco

Harry was in love with Malfoy. And Malfoy was in love with Harry. On top of it all, they would be exploring these newly professed feelings with the aid of the most powerful love potion, Amortentia. It was enough to make Harry lightheaded.

“Are you ok, Potter?” asked Malfoy. “You forgot to kiss me back.”

Harry blinked. “How long will this last?”

“The potion should last three or four hours, but I’m aiming for the long-term for us,” Malfoy said. He conjured two small goblets. “Pour half into each.” Harry did as he was instructed, then Malfoy took one. “Spit in it,” he said. They each spit into their goblet, and the spiral that emitted from the potion spun faster. “Now we trade. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, Malfoy. Let’s do this,” Harry said.

They drank, and at first nothing happened. Then slowly a sensation like warm oil spreading over his skin enveloped him. His heart was in his throat and his stomach dropped to his groin, leaving his body to soar. He thought that he might feel like his head was in the clouds, but, if anything, he felt more adhered to the moment. There was nothing outside of this room that mattered, and nothing could be wrong because Draco Malfoy was here with him, going through the same emotions.

“Are you ok?” Malfoy asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Do I look ok?”

Malfoy took in all of Harry’s face at once, his pupils were blown so wide. He nodded. “You’re fit. I didn’t expect the potion to work like this. I thought it would be all action and no thinking, but I want to remember every moment. I’m glad enough to be in your presence.”

Harry pulled a face. “Are you saying you’d be ok with not making love?”

“No. No, I want that too, but lust isn’t driving me to be with you, love is,” Malfoy said.

Harry’s heart leapt. “Tell me you love me.”

“I just did,” Malfoy said.

“No. You haven’t said, ‘I love you, Potter,’ yet. I’d remember if you had,” Harry said.

“Potter, you are a demanding git, and you always get you way,” Malfoy said.

“Not on this. You won’t tell me you love me.” Harry pouted.

Malfoy smirked and leaned in for another kiss. Unbidden, Harry parted his lips for Malfoy. Had Harry ever kissed anyone before, because this felt like something new. Malfoy’s scent filled his mouth, causing his tongue and throat to tingle. It slithered down his spine and settled in his groin like a warm coil. Harry gasped, needing more of this part of Malfoy.

He pulled back when he remembered, “You’re distracting me.”

Malfoy asked, “Was there something else you would rather be doing?”

“Yes! I want to hear you say it,” Potter said.

Malfoy shook his head in confusion. “I was so into kissing you, I can’t remember what it was you wanted me to say.”

Harry pushed Malfoy’s shoulder. “You liar. You’re loving putting me off.”

Malfoy laughed and pulled Harry into a hug.

“No.” Harry squirmed. “I don’t want to be touched by people who won’t tell me they love me, and that means you.” But instead of struggling to get away from Malfoy, Harry was burrowing further into his arms.

“I love you, Potter,” Malfoy said, kissing the top of his head.

Harry hummed his contentment and kissed Malfoy’s pointed chin then along the vein exposed on his pale neck. He raised his head, and his mouth found Malfoy’s waiting lips. Malfoy’s arms tightened around him until Harry could not move if he wanted to. The only part of Malfoy he could touch was his face, a very nice face, but Harry wanted to feel more of his skin.

“Get your robes off,” Harry said.

Malfoy rolled them so that he straddled Harry, who watched as Malfoy exposed his milky skin, inch by inch. He stretched to pull his robes over his head in one move and tossed them to the side. He removed the rest of his clothes before stretching his naked body on top of Harry.

“You’re so warm,” Harry said. He could feel Malfoy’s body heat through his robes. “And your skin is smooth.” He ran his hands over Malfoy’s back and thighs as he gazed into Malfoy’s stormy eyes. They continued to kiss, and Harry’s hands roamed to Malfoy’s arse. He played his fingers along the tight pucker but did not push past his hole.

“I love you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy smirked. It was a face Harry knew for what it was. Harry had spoken the thoughts Malfoy had already seen through his eyes. Still Malfoy said, “Say it once more.”

“I love you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy threw himself on top of Harry, kissing every exposed bit of skin he could put his mouth on. The next thing Harry was aware of, he was on top of Malfoy, and they were working together to rid Harry of his clothes. Malfoy kissed and licked his way over Harry’s abdomen and sternum, and with every touch, Harry’s cock filled a little more. Harry watched, but he wanted to touch too.

“There’s a new position I’ve wanted to try. Want to give it a go?” Harry reached for his wand. Then, at Malfoy’s nod, he spoke the words in his head. Levicorpus.

Malfoy dangled in the air as if a hook were in one of his heels. “What is this, Potter?”

Harry stood so that he faced Malfoy. “It’s 69.” He proved his point by licking the underside of Malfoy’s cock which stood out from Malfoy’s groin, hard.

“All the blood is going to my head,” Malfoy said.

“It’s going to your cock too,” Harry said. “We don’t have to do it for long.” He nipped the inside of Malfoy’s thigh. Malfoy yelped so Harry kissed the pink spot.

Malfoy sighed. “Give me your cock.”

Harry guided his cock into Malfoy’s mouth. Malfoy grabbed his balls and tugged gently while he moved his head experimentally. Harry braced his feet on the bed and found it difficult to get any leverage to thrust, but Malfoy found his pace and worked him expertly. Harry swallowed Malfoy’s cock, bobbing his head along his hot length. They grunted and moaned with no space between them as Harry leaned on Malfoy more with each passing second. Malfoy released his cock in favor of rolling his tongue around Harry’s balls, and Harry’s cock throbbed, bouncing on Malfoy’s chin.

Harry spread Malfoy’s cheeks and stopped sucking Malfoy’s cock long enough to spit on his pink pucker. Malfoy’s free leg fell further to the side as Harry pushed his finger into Malfoy. It was so tight Harry wondered how his cock ever fit in there, but he was able to nudge Malfoy’s hole open to add a second finger. Malfoy’s cock pulsed in Harry’s mouth, and the first drops of precum hit Harry’s tongue.

Harry pulled away. He did not want this orgasm to be over so quickly. He lowered to the bed and stretched out over several pillows to watch Malfoy dangling in front of him. Harry absentmindedly tugged his cock.

“I love watching you pleasure yourself,” Malfoy said, “but this is bordering on bullying behavior.”

Harry smiled as he grabbed himself in a firmer grip. “What is?”

“You’ve left me with no way down, and you’ve taken yourself out of reach,” Malfoy said.

“I thought you said you were happy enough to be here with me,” Harry said.

“That was before I had your cock in my mouth, Potter. Come on, you’ve had your fun, now let me down,” Malfoy said.

Harry smiled and let his head fall back as his pleasure built. His eyes began to close.

Malfoy growled. “Potter, I love you.”

Harry’s head came up. Malfoy had his arms crossed over his chest and he was scowling yet the truth of his love shone in his eyes which never left Potter. He gazed at Harry as if he were being tortured and happy at once. Harry thought Levocorpus, and Malfoy fell to the bed.

“Keep touching yourself.” Malfoy trailed his fingers over Harry’s calf then slid off the bed. “We tried your thing. Now we try mine.” He opened his box and extracted a vial, maybe two, but Harry could not see.

Malfoy said, “I don’t think you know what you got me. Did the witch who sold you these tell you how to use them?”

Harry nodded. “But I didn’t hear much of it. She said they were good for partners, and I took her at her word.”

Malfoy smirked. “I see.”

Malfoy dropped some oil into his palm and took Harry’s cock, smearing the potion over his length. He moved over Harry and bore down until the head of Harry’s cock pushed into his hole.

“It won’t work with the lube, but I’ve got to say, Potter, I love how I can feel you filling me,” Malfoy said. “This one needs friction to work, so it will take a while for its effects to begin.”

“It’s so hot; you’re so tight. I love having you around me,” Harry said. He did not care so much about potions and oils now.

Harry grabbed Malfoy by the hips and thrust past his resistance. Malfoy made a choked gasp that transformed into a low groan as he adjusted to Harry fully inside of him. Harry thrust and began to lose himself in Malfoy, but his partner was unstoppering another vial. He dropped some potion onto Harry’s chest, and as he rubbed it into Harry’s skin, he used his wand to mutter an incantation. It was not a usual incantation. This one was not phrases or spoken like a song. It was deep and guttural, and the words Harry could make out were unmistakably sexual. 

Amortentia made Harry acutely aware of Malfoy, what he was doing, and how he was feeling, but with this new potion, his focus centered on everywhere Malfoy touched him. His skin thrummed as if Harry were a musical instrument, and Malfoy were playing a beautiful melody. Malfoy ran his hands over Harry’s nipples and dragged them across his abs, circled over his shoulders and down his arms to where Harry held him. Harry flipped them and continued to pound into Malfoy who tightened his legs around Harry’s hips. His hands continued their journey starting down Harry’s back, over his arse and thighs, through his hair, and everywhere he touched made their music sweeter.

“Ah, Malfoy.” Harry brought their mouths together and said against his lips, “Ah, I love you.”

Harry moved in a brutal pace causing Malfoy to let out a continuous moan through his slack mouth. He arched his shoulder off the bed and he threw his head back, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His arse came up to meet Harry thrust for thrust, and as Draco fisted his cock, a string of precum connected the tip to his navel. Harry wondered if Malfoy had ever been so depraved and uninhibited.

“Harder,” Malfoy said. “I’m close.”

Harry braced with his knees by Malfoy’s arse, and while holding the underside of Malfoy’s thighs, he thrust with all the force he could manage. Malfoy had no way to move and his cries grew louder. With every push inside his tight hole, every nerve ending on the head of Harry’s cock lit up. He huffed out on every thrust and thought he might lose control at any moment, yet he did not falter, hitting Malfoy in the same spot over and over again. Malfoy was now babbling an incoherent stream of praise and begging to cum. His hand was a blur on his cock. Harry would not deny him while he sought his own end. They moved together in delicious harmony, and their bodies strained in beautiful agony. It was too perfect, and Harry could not have stopped it if he tried.

Harry lowered to his elbows so their bodies aligned with Malfoy’s cock trapped between them. His head fell into the crook of Malfoy’s neck, and all he smelled was Malfoy’s sweat. He bit the skin there so that the scent of Malfoy invaded his skull like a heady drug. Malfoy wrapped himself around Harry and held him fast. Harry’s arse was in the air as he drove into Malfoy, trying to get in deeper, his balls slapping Malfoy’s crease.

“Potter, please, I’m, please, I’m so close,” Malfoy said. “I love it, I love the way you make love. Oh, Potter, please, it’s, it’s too much. Please, I need to cum.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” was all Harry managed. 

Harry wedged his hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around Malfoy’s cock. It was all it took to send Malfoy over the edge, and at the same moment Harry’s orgasm overtook him. Their voices echoed through the room.

“Potter!”

“Malfoy!”

It seemed to go on. Ropes of his cum splashed the insides of Malfoy as his balls drew up again and again. Malfoy’s own orgasm shot into Harry’s stomach and may have reached his chin if Harry had not been lying on him. Harry collapsed, his full weight on Malfoy.

Outside there was the sound of clapping. Someone yelled, “Some of us still have exams to get through!” They had forgotten to cast Muffliato, and the whole house had heard their love making. Malfoy was laughing, but Harry moved to cast the spell now. He did not need any Slytherins to be a part of his private moments. Any frustration he may have had vanished when he took in Malfoy’s disheveled appearance and the cum pooling in his abdomen.

“That’s a lot of cum, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Did I make you do that?”

Malfoy dragged his fingers through it. “Yeah, Potter. It was the best sex of my life.”

Harry stopped Malfoy by grabbing his wrist. He sucked two of his fingers into his mouth and tasted the evidence of their efforts paid off. It was not enough, so Harry licked Malfoy until there were no signs of sex left except for the flush on Malfoy’s skin, the satisfied droop in his eye, and the stench of sweat and cum in the air. When he was done, Malfoy was half hard again.

“Come lay with me,” Malfoy said when Harry moved to wrap his lips around Malfoy.

“You don’t want to?”

“Not yet, Potter. I haven’t had time to recover,” Malfoy said. “My cock doesn’t know that and just liked watching you eat my cum.”

Harry chuckled and crawled up to share a pillow with Malfoy Malfoy motioned for him to roll over then snuggled into Harry’s back with his nose in Harry’s hair.

“I need to know something, and it won’t change anything,” Malfoy said.

Harry was too content to be alarmed. He asked, “What’s that?”

“Why did you testify in my case?”


	17. Draco Does Harry

“What?” Potter turned to look over his shoulder.

“This summer, I stood trial at the ministry,” Draco said.

“I’m aware,” Potter said.

“And you testified,” Draco said. “Why?”

“You want to talk about this now?” Potter settled back into Draco’s arms as if to say he did not want to talk about this now. Draco could be just as stubborn.

“I already love you. Talking about it won’t change anything,” Draco said.

“Why would it change anything? I testified for you,” Potter grumbled.

“Because I can’t think of anything to explain why you would do that,” Draco said.

“What, like there’s some secret meaning behind it?” Potter scoffed. “I’m not your dad. There aren’t layers of deviousness to get to my motivations. They’re right there on the surface. You didn’t kill anyone. You were raised by Death Eaters to be a Death Eater. You denounced them, and you meant it. You’re young enough to make changes for the better and deserve a second chance. I feel like I’ve said this already. Why are we going over it again?”

“But you never mentioned how I nearly killed Weasley and Katie Bell, or howI tracked you down in the Hidden Things Room, intending to stop you for the Dark Lord,” Draco pointed out.

“Because at the crucial moment, you turned your back on Voldemort,” Potter said.

Draco shuddered at the name. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really believe you should be in Azkaban?” Harry asked.

“When I was taken by the ministry, I had myself convinced it was the right thing to do. But you kept me out of Azkaban.”

“I don’t like your dad much, but it was his decision to plead guilty in exchange for your release. He’s the reason you went free,” Potter said.

Draco shook his head. “No way were they letting out a Death Eater so soon after the end of the war. They needed your testimony to accept the terms. I was sure they would throw me in Azkaban on your word.”

Potter scoffed. “You think so little of me.”

“You surprise me,” Malfoy said. “And you could have sent me to prison.”

Potter sat up then and poked Draco in the shoulder. “No. It wouldn’t have been right.”

Draco shook his head and sighed. “You’re too good for me, Potter. And you’ll be a good Auror.”

“Well,” Potter said, flustered, “Thanks.”

Draco patted the bed for Potter to lie back down. He retook his position in Draco’s arms, and Draco kissed an exposed bit of his neck. They dozed off for an hour, then Malfoy’s cock began to stir.

“The potion won’t last much longer, and I want to have sex with you once more before it’s gone,” Draco said.

“Speaking of, what were the potions you used?” Harry asked. “The one you used on my body gave you magic hands.”

Draco chuckled. “Yeah, that one was for errotic touch. It was supposed to feel like your skin was humming. The other one said to use it in place of lube for the perfect orgasm. I think it learned, in a way, what we liked and guided the final moments so that we came together.”

“It worked,” Potter said. “Can we use that one again?”

“We can do whatever you like,” Draco said.

“Anything I like?” Potter pondered then said, “Turn over, Malfoy. I want to feel you unravel on my tongue.”

“Your cum is still in my arse,” Draco said.

Potter’s eyes darkened, and he whispered, “Get your arse over here.”

A shudder went through Draco starting at his scalp, raising his hair, and ending at the tip of his cock. Potter, impatient as ever, guided Draco onto his stomach and pulled his legs apart. Draco laid his head on his arms and tried to get comfortable, but he held his body tight in anticipation. Potter spread his taut arse.

“Malfoy, relax,” Potter said. “I can’t get to your sweet hole when you’re so tense.”

Potter smoothed his hands up and down Draco’s thighs, and it soothed Draco until he sunk into the bed. It was amazing what a touch from Potter could do for his sense of calm. He would keep it in the back of his mind for the future for when Draco’s temper rose or when he needed reassurances.

“Have I told you I love you?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, but I could hear it again,” Potter said.

“I love you,” Draco said.

“I love your ass,” Potter said, now massaging his cheeks.

Draco rolled his eyes, but Potter wiped the exasperation from Draco’s face with the first swipe of his tongue. It still shocked Draco to have someone touch him there, but after the initial jolt, a warmth spread through his groin. Potter rubbed his nose in Draco’s crease, his stubble grazing his sensitive flesh. Blood filled Draco’s cock so it was fully erect, and he rubbed it against the sheet, seeking some relief.

Potter smacked his hip. “Don’t touch your cock.”

“I didn’t,” Draco said.

“To anything. This orgasm is all mine,” Potter said.

Draco moaned, but if it was from pleasure or annoyance, it was hard to tell. Then Potter burrowed his face in Draco’s arse, and the moan was all pleasure. Potter ate his arse with such enthusiasm, pulling Draco’s hips off the bed and moaning at his compliance, but he did not push his tongue into Draco’s hole. Draco pushed his arse back to get Potter’s mouth where he needed it.

“Potter, get on my arsehole,” Draco said.

Potter avoided his seeking hips and smacked them harder. He turned his focus to Draco’s taint and went down to his balls, popping them out of his mouth in turn. Potter swirled his tongue around his balls and sucked until Draco cried out.

“Potter, you’ve got a mouth I’d lay out a sacrifice for, but I need you to stick your tongue in my arse,” Draco said.

Potter did something with his tongue that momentarily made Draco forget his desires, but it was becoming harder to deny. It wasn’t enough to have Potter lav his balls nor was the wet heat of his lips tight around his sac. His arsehole throbbed at being ignored.

“Please, Potter,” Draco said.

“What is it, Malfoy?” Potter asked. “What do you need?”

“You know bloody well,” Draco began, but Potter was sucking his sac again. “Potter, please, I’m begging you, I need you to fuck my hole with your tongue.”

Potter spread his cheeks so far apart, his skin pulled, but then he was poking the hard tip of his tongue into his hole. Draco sighed as the hair on his skin stood on end. Draco reached back and shoved his fingers into Potter’s hair, holding him there, not letting him pull away. He was on an elbow and his knees to push back on Potter. His neck arched back then his head fell forward as his hole opened for Potter’s insistent tongue. His cock bobbed in the air, and he let out a long moan.

“Potter you’ve got it,” Draco said. “That’s the spot.”

A wave of ecstasy washed over Draco, and he slumped onto the bed. His hand reached for his cock, but Potter pulled his hand away and held it against the bed. Then he pushed Draco’s hips onto a pillow and shoved up one knee. He was back on Draco’s arse before Draco adjusted to this new position. Potter pushed in a hooked finger alongside his tongue and pushed in until Draco opened for him. Then he added a second. Potter had told him that, on more than one occasion while Potter was eating his arse, Draco praised Potter endlessly. He had never been aware of it, but if it happened, he would be soon. Potter was absorbed in what he was doing, and it was his undivided attention driving Draco to the brink.

His hips moved against the pillow and Potter stopped. “Which vial did you use on my cock?” Potter asked.

“I’m not sure. They’re both on the bed stand,” Draco said.

“Guess I’m using both,” Potter said.

“You can check the label,” Draco said.

“Too late,” Potter said, and Draco could hear the unmistakable sound of Potter’s hand sliding over his slick cock.

“You only need a few drops. How much did you use?” Draco asked.

“More than a few drops. Does it matter?” Potter asked.

“Yes it matters! Did you not just take a N.E.W.T Potions exam?” Draco admonished.

“I wasn’t thinking about Potions,” Potter said. “What will happen?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we,” Draco said.

As Draco lay prone, Potter guided his cock to Draco’s hole. With the way Potter had been working his arse, the head of his cock pushed past his ring easily. Potter grabbed his hip, dimpling his skin with the tips of his fingers, and eased his cock in to the base. Draco grunted, and Potter ran his hand over Draco’s back before resting on his elbows.

“Are you okay?” Potter asked.

“Yeah, Potter, now move,” Draco said.

Potter started out slow, dragging his cock along his hole, but he built his pace quickly, slapping their thighs together. Smack. Smack. Smack. Draco found his wand in the folds of the blanket and spoke the strange incantation, hoping his wand was pointed in the direction of where their bodies joined.

“Yes, Potter, yes,” Draco said. “It’s so good. Do you feel that?”

“Ah, ah, yeah,” Potter said.

The potion for erotic touch was working. A strong thrum started from inside Draco and radiated out to his entire body. It was such an odd feeling, Draco had trouble catching his breath. Then a soft moan slipped from his lips, and each thrust became the bow that drew out notes of low groans and short gasps. Potter added his own voice with huffs as his cock hit Malfoy’s soft flesh and with his litany of “Ah, ah, ahs.” 

Draco’s cock ached, trapped between his groin and the pillow. Draco lifted his hips, pushing the pillow aside to get his hand on his cock. Potter smacked his hip then rolled them so that Draco straddled Potter with his cock exposed, the head purple and leaking. 

“Keep your hands on my chest, Malfoy,” Potter said.

Draco held his back off of Potter, unable to touch himself, and let his knees fall to the side with his toes on the bed. Potter held his hips up and thrust savagely into Draco whose cock bounced through the air. It was the perfect angle to fill Draco. His head fell back, his eyes rolled in his head, and his legs shook.

“Ah, Malfoy, I can feel you tightening around my cock,” Potter said. “I won’t make it much longer.”

Potter thrust and their bodies hummed. Draco should have fallen over, and Potter should have moved more erratically, yet they moved together in harmony.

“Don’t cum, Malfoy. I want you to cum in mouth,” Potter said. “Don’t cum.”

Malfoy did not think it would be possible to cum without any friction on his cock, yet he was straining to hold his orgasm back. Potter pulled him to his chest and wrapped his arms around Draco’s arms. His breath was hot on Draco’s ear. He knew Potter was close, and Draco focused on holding back his orgasm. They both cried out as Potter released inside of him.

Some moments passed before Potter slowed enough to unwind his arms from around Draco. Draco moved off of Potter who was resting his neck on a pillow. 

“You should do some of the work. Go on,” Potter said.

Draco was quick to move to straddle Potter’s head and guide his cock down Potter’s open throat. The first contact nearly had Draco orgasming, but his cock had not had any attention, and he wanted this to last for as long as he could hold off. He moved in short jabs deep in Potter’s throat. Potter swallowed, massaging Draco’s length; he gurgled as he struggled for breath but did not try to pull away. A few times it became too much for him, and Draco pulled back to allow the color to return to Potter’s face and chest. Then he shoved his cock, dripping with saliva, back down Potter’s throat.

Potter reached between Draco’s legs and inserted his fingers into Draco’s hole, using his own cum for lube. His fingers were clumsy as Draco’s nerves lit up and he thrust harder, making breathing more difficult for Potter. It was divinity to take his pleasure from Potter this way, first watching his cock poke Potter’s neck then feel his finger’s push into his hole. Draco fell forward and let his hips fly as the noises from Potter grew more obscene.

“I’m nearly there, Potter,” Draco said.

He pulled back to let Potter breath, but at the last second, Potter latched his lips around his cock, and that was all it took. He came on Potter’s tongue with a sob. Potter milked him for every drop until it was painful, and Draco had to pull away. He fell to the side so that they lay head to arse.

When Potter spoke, it was raspy. “You did me in. I’ll have a sore throat for a month.”

Draco laughed as he caught his breath. “My arsehole is throbbing from the pounding you gave it, so I’d say we’re done in all around.”

He turned to lie with Potter properly, and their mouths joined. It was a loving kiss made dirty by the tastes of himself on Potter’s tongue. Draco ran his fingers in Potter’s hair while Potter held him close.

“I love you,” Potter said.

“I love you too, Potter,” Draco replied.

“Where are you living after this?” Potter asked.

“Someplace in London, I suspect,” Draco said.

“Move in with me,” Potter said.

Draco was flattered and could picture a life with Potter, but he said, “No.”

“What? Why not?” Potter asked.

“This is still so new. We should wait until we’ve been dating a while, say another year,” Draco said. “We can each get a place and still see each other often.”

Potter pouted. “It will be just like this, me at your place most nights.”

“Except you won’t have to use your invisibility cloak to sneak in,” Draco said. “So much is already changing. You’ll be settling into Auror training, and I’ll be working at the Ministry, and we’ll be together, but there’s no rush to make everything happen all at once.”

“Is that your final decision?” Potter asked.

“Yeah, Potter,” Draco said.

“Fine. One year, then we move in together,” Potter said.

Draco smiled, and Potter could not help but return it. As the Amortentia wore off, they fell into a deep sleep, holding each other, secured by a shared future and the love that bound them.


End file.
